


The Spaces Shaped for You

by Chisotahn



Series: Paths We Take Together [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, Engagement, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Missing Scene, Temporary Long Distance Relationship, they're so in love you guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chisotahn/pseuds/Chisotahn
Summary: The paths they'd chosen after the Grand Prix Final wouldn't be easy, particularly with Nationals just ten days away, but one thing was certain: no matter what happened, their paths would always come together in the end.(Continuation exploring the time elapsed between the second-to-last and last scenes in episode twelve. Yuuri and Victor's journey to their Nationals and beyond.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (edited 1/17/17) As YoI appears to take place in the '15-'16 figure skating season, dates have been ever so slightly tweaked to bring them in line with canon. All dates and locations mentioned are based on that season now! Many thanks to [SYWTWFS?](http://soyouwanttowatchfs.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for being an incredible resource for everything!

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

The words were quiet, tender; a moment later a featherlight kiss brushed at Yuuri’s hair before the bed shifted slightly. Yuuri roused a little at the disturbance but settled back into a sleepy haze. Too early, always too early. He could hear someone, presumably Victor, moving around the room, followed by the sound of running water. 

Yuuri blinked blearily at the ceiling, trying to place it. Not his room at home, not Victor’s room. Definitely not Detroit, not if Victor was here. Hotel, then. 

Right. Barcelona. The Grand Prix Final.

Yuuri rolled over and fumbled for his glasses, nearly knocking his phone off the nightstand in the process. He squinted at the text notifications that had come in during the night: two from Mari-neechan, saying she and Mariko-sensei had gotten back to Hasetsu safely. Two from Phichit, plus an ungodly number of Instagram notifications that probably made this year’s GPF banquet the most thoroughly chronicled one ever held. Yuuri thanked his lucky stars that Phichit hadn’t made it to the GPF the previous year.

Single texts from a variety of others: Yuu-chan, congratulating him and using far too many emojis to describe their exhibition performance. Yuuri smiled at the memory, his cheeks warming. His mother, wishing him safe travels and giving them the daily Makkachin Update, complete with picture of the poodle dozing on his back in front of the television. All normal.

The date at the top of the phone screen said _December 14, 2015._

Yuuri let the phone drop and settled back into the pillows, letting out a long, slow breath. He’d been dreading this date for so long - ever since Victor showed up at Hasetsu, glorious and disconcerting. Oh, their time together could easily have been shorter had Yuuri done poorly in competition, but this had always been the assumed end date for their coach-student relationship. Even as they’d grown to mean more to each other, the date had become more painful to Yuuri, not less. He couldn’t imagine not being at Victor’s side every day, and part of him was terribly afraid that what they’d shared would end up being beautiful but brief. 

But the Grand Prix Final was over, and Victor was still here. Still his coach, and so much more.

Yuuri sat up in bed and stretched before glancing towards the bathroom. The hotel room had an odd design, with a clear glass wall between the sleeping area and the bathing area. Sure enough, Victor was in the shower. Yuuri blushed faintly but didn’t look away. The glass was frosted, so he couldn’t see many details, but details weren’t needed. 

Victor was still here. Just that confirmation was enough. 

When Victor turned the water off, Yuuri yawned and pushed the sheets aside, stretching once more before shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. He waited there for a few minutes, responding to Phichit’s text about his flight time, then got to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

Victor had slipped into one of the hotel bathrobes again. He was humming something quiet and toneless under his breath, and when he saw Yuuri he lit up like a sunbeam. “Ah, my sleeping beauty is finally awake!” Victor took a step forward and pulled Yuuri into his arms. Yuuri made a low, contented sound and rested his head against Victor’s chest, letting his eyes drift closed as he drank in Victor’s presence. The warm shelter of his embrace, the slight dampness clinging to his skin, the soft rhythm of his heartbeat, the scent of him - all of it precious, and all of it somehow Yuuri’s. 

He didn’t have to say goodbye. The thought brought tears to his eyes. 

“Yuuri?” Victor gently kissed the top of his head.

“Mm,” Yuuri murmured, not wanting to break the moment just yet, but he could feel Victor getting restless. Worried, maybe. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just-” His voice cracked traitorously, and Victor tensed. 

“Come here,” Victor said quietly, guiding them both out of the bathroom and back to the beds. Yuuri let Victor gently push him onto the bed, the other man letting out a soft breath at the sight of Yuuri’s tears. “Yuuri…”

“I’m happy,” Yuuri managed as Victor joined him on the bed, giving him a wobbly smile. “It’s just... for months and months, I thought today was going to be the end.” Victor made an unhappy sound, much to Yuuri’s distress, prompting Yuuri to find Victor’s hand and twine their fingers together.. “No, no - it’s not the end, it’s _not_ , that’s why I’m happy. It also feels strange, that’s all.” Yuuri smiled, then chuckled at himself, wiping at his face with his free hand. “As if the entire world was going to stop just because the Grand Prix Final was over. I don’t know if I even had a plan past yesterday.” 

“And now?” Victor asked, stroking his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles. 

“Now… I guess we have a plan,” Yuuri said, his smile softening at the _we_. If nothing else, the remainder of the skating season provided a roadmap… though, thanks to _someone_ , it also provided certain complications. “When are Russian Nationals, again?” 

“Ah! Well.” Victor cleared his throat, then flashed Yuuri his brightest smile and a V-sign. “Victor Nikiforov always surprises the audience!”

“By pulling out a short program and free skate in ten days? That’s not a surprise, that’s _ridiculous_.” Yuuri shook his head, then grinned wryly. “Though is it more or less ridiculous than moving to Japan because of a video?”

“Yuuri, it was more than just the video.” Victor’s grin turned sly, and Yuuri blushed. 

“That’s- that’s not the point. Um. A-anyway.” Yuuri forced himself to look back up at Victor. “You really are going to try, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Ah, you said that was what you wanted! Very eloquently. Your skating was magnificent.” Victor lifted their joined hands to kiss Yuuri’s ring. “It’s impossible to ignore that kind of passion…” He kissed the back of Yuuri’s hand, then his wrist, and Yuuri was just starting to really appreciate that when Victor concluded with “-so really, Yuuri, this was all your idea!”

 _Oh._ Yuuri made a face at Victor and made as if to tug his hand away. “I _made_ you say you’d be coming back for Nationals, is that it?” 

Victor gave him a wounded look. “So cruel, Yuuri. So terrible.” He flopped back onto the pillows in the most dramatic way possible before letting out a long sigh. “Ten days. I know.” Victor’s expression grew serious, contemplative. “I have to go back to St. Petersburg with Yakov today if I’m going to have any chance at all. There’s no time to waste.” 

Yuuri’s stomach twisted, and it must have shown on his face because Victor made another unhappy sound and gathered Yuuri close. “It won’t be for long, my Yuuri, I promise, and I can call you every night, and you’ll have Makkachin and Yuuko can help so I can watch you practice at Ice Castle and be your coach and-”

Yuuri took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Victor continued his stream of concerned babble. Saying goodbye today didn’t mean a _final_ goodbye. Being separated for a while wasn’t the end of the world. They’d done it before. They’d manage. Yuuri nuzzled against Victor’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said, and Victor fell silent. “Victor, really, it’s okay.” He gave Victor a lopsided smile. “I mean, you’re right, I did ask for this. And I know it’s just goodbye for a little while. We can make it work.” He took another deep breath. 

“Yuuri…” Victor gently tilted Yuuri’s chin up, seeking a kiss that Yuuri was only too happy to give. “Yuuri,” he repeated, after their lips parted. “After Nationals, come back to St. Petersburg with me and Makkachin. My apartment’s big enough for two, and we can train there together. I… I know it’s selfish, but I want you by my side. Please.”

There was something so vulnerable in Victor’s eyes that Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat; it reminded Yuuri of the way Victor had looked at the airport after Rostelecom, of how badly they needed each other. “Of course,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor stared at him, then lit up with joy and launched himself forward, tackling Yuuri against the mattress. “Yuuri~!”

Yuuri laughed even as he struggled to find a space to breathe amongst pillows, bedsheets, and happy Victor. “When do you want me to come?”

“Hmmm.” Victor paused, giving Yuuri a chance to breathe, and lifted a finger to his lips as he thought aloud. “I need to move my things back too, and get Makkachin… hmm… the European championships are in late January…” He trailed off, considering, then seemed to come to a decision. Victor nodded sharply and beamed down at Yuuri. “Yes, perfect! I’ll come back to Hasetsu after the Nationals and we can pack together, then leave together. And I can spend New Years with you! In Japan!” 

Victor’s obvious delight was nothing short of infectious. “Okay,” Yuuri said, only for Victor to throw himself on top of him again, bouncy as an excited puppy. “Oof! Victor!” 

Victor laughed, sounding giddy. “Sorry, sorry~ I’m just so happy.” He rolled off of Yuuri, fetching up alongside him and scooting down a bit so he could rest his head on Yuuri’s chest. “Thank you, Yuuri. I hate to leave Hasetsu, but I didn’t think Yakov would want to move. “ He frowned slightly. “I don’t see why not, Yurio likes Hasetsu too and I’m sure Mila and Georgi would-”

For a horrified moment, Yuuri imagined the inn being descended upon by the entire Russian figure skating team. “No no no, St. Petersburg is fine,” he said quickly. “Besides, I’m used to training in foreign countries. I was in America for five years, remember?” He curled against Victor and gently trailed one hand down his back. “I’ll have to work on my Russian.” Four or five phrases weren’t going to be enough, particularly when two of them were… specialized. The thought made Yuuri’s cheeks go pink.

“Oh, don’t worry. I can coach on you that, too,” Victor said, smiling against Yuuri’s chest. “My, Yuuri. You keep coming up with reasons for us to share private lessons.”

“I wonder why,” Yuuri said with a wry grin as Victor hugged him tight. 

They lay there for several minutes in contented silence, Yuuri continuing to stroke Victor’s back. The warm light coming in through the window painted everything in a golden haze, and with Victor cuddled up next to him Yuuri was beyond reluctant to break their reverie. Still, the faint buzz of his phone drew his attention, and checking it yielded a flight reminder. He, at least, would be heading back to Japan in five hours.

“When does your flight leave?” Yuuri asked with a sigh. He really, really didn’t want to leave Victor now, even though he knew they didn’t have much of a choice, not if they were going to walk down this path together. 

Victor grumbled and squeezed Yuuri a little tighter before releasing him and turning to grab his phone. “A little later than our flig- _your_ flight, I mean.” He frowned at his phone, and Yuuri caught a glimpse of numerous message notifications before Victor dismissed them with a flick. “St. Petersburg isn’t as far away. I’ll probably be on the ice again tonight.” 

Yuuri let out a long breath. His thoughts were trying to run away again, trying to figure out all the ways things could go terribly wrong, all the ways he could fail. Last year’s Nationals had been an utter disaster, and it was only thanks to Victor’s intervention that he’d been active this season at all, let alone made it to the Grand Prix Final. They wouldn’t have anyone who could be there for Yuuri this time, as Yakov had grudgingly been for the free skate at Rostelecom. After the Nationals they’d be together, yes, but if Yuuri didn’t do well at the Nationals, would there be any point?

A second later, the press of something cold against his cheek startled Yuuri out of his anxiety spiral. Yuuri flinched away reflexively before he realized what was going on. Victor was looking down at him with an expression of deep concern, and the cold thing he’d put to Yuuri’s cheek was the silver medal Yuuri had won at the Final. “Yuuri. I didn’t win this,” he said, firmly, shaking the medal a little for emphasis.

“Victor, I…” His body had tensed up sharply as his thoughts darkened, Yuuri realized, and Victor must have picked up on that. He was getting better at reading Yuuri’s moods. “I know, I just…” Yuuri forced himself to breathe evenly, trying to push away the fear. 

“You won this medal yourself, Yuuri.” Victor pressed the medal into Yuuri’s hands and leaned down to brush kisses against Yuuri’s cheek. “All I did - all I can ever do - is help you believe in yourself. I know you can do this. It’s not going to be easy for either of us, but I think it will be worth it.” Victor gently tilted Yuuri’s chin up so that their eyes met, his expression warm. “I want you by my side no matter what happens.”

Yuuri inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment; he felt Victor kiss his cheek once more, soft and sweet, then again, closer to his mouth this time. He turned his head slightly and caught Victor’s lips with his own, and Victor made a pleased noise as Yuuri deepened the kiss. Yuuri let the medal fall onto the bedsheets and reached for Victor with both hands, pulling him close. “Thank you,” he whispered into the space between them when their lips parted. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Victor gently smoothed Yuuri’s bangs back with one hand. “I want to learn this - I want to take care of you properly.” He looked a little sheepish then, and Yuuri knew he was thinking of the Cup of China, when Yuuri had nearly shattered in the parking garage just before his free skate. “You’re strong, Yuuri. Don’t doubt it.” 

Yuuri smiled at him, the expression a little wobbly, but entirely genuine. “You are, too.”

“I shall have to be. I don’t know how I’ll survive being away from you.” Victor pushed himself up into a sitting position with a distressed expression on his face, though the sparkle in his eyes said otherwise. “Do you think Yurio will mind being hugged in your absence?”

Yuuri chuckled. “He definitely didn’t want me hugging him in _your_ absence. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Ah, well. There’s always Yakov.” Victor grinned, then sighed. “I suppose we should pack.”

“I guess so.” Yuuri sat up, then took his glasses off, wiping the smudged lenses with his shirt. “Just… kiss me a little more, first?” 

Victor’s smile broadened. “You have to ask? Ah, wait-” He leaned over Yuuri, pushing the sheets aside until he came up with Yuuri’s silver medal. “Don’t forget this. Just because I don’t want to kiss it doesn’t mean it isn’t important.”

“And if I get a gold medal at the Nationals?” Yuuri said, taking the medal from Victor and returning it to the nightstand. 

“Hmmm.” Victor looked thoughtful. “We’ll talk.”

“Later,” Yuuri said, reaching to pull Victor back down again.

“Definitely later,” Victor agreed, and kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

A gentle touch woke Yuuri for the second morning in a row, but this time it wasn’t Victor. Yuuri blinked at the flight attendant and quickly shifted to move his seat back up, yawning and rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. The window showed a sky streaked with the colors of sunrise, the light shining off of water below.

The seat next to him was empty.

Yuuri retrieved his glasses from the seatback pocket and put them on, yawning again as the flight attendant returned to pass out steaming hot washcloths and write down his choice for breakfast. The warm, rough fabric felt refreshing against his cheeks, and Yuuri spent a moment breathing in the steam, such a relief after the perpetual dryness of the airplane cabin. Despite the fact that they hadn’t landed yet Yuuri’s hands itched to get his phone, even though there was no way to check his texts. He’d never felt the need to pay the additional fee for in-flight internet, but at the moment he desperately wanted that connection. 

_It’s fine,_ he told himself, firmly. _Just an hour and a half more._

The empty seat felt like a hole he could so easily slide down into. 

_Come on. You’ve done this before._ Which was true - and, come to think of it, might have something to do with why he felt this way. Yuuri smiled reflexively, self-depreciating. The only other times he’d come back to Hasetsu alone in recent memory had been depressing. First, he’d been returning after having graduated, leaving Detroit and Celestino and the life he’d shaped for himself in America all behind, feeling untethered and lost. And the last time had been after Rostelecom, filled with worry for Victor and Makkachin and so, so afraid that he had let Victor down.

But he hadn’t let Victor down, and he wasn’t going to now. Victor’s absence was temporary. The ring on his finger was proof of that. 

Slowly, Yuuri felt the tension bleed away from him. He stretched, careful not to get in anyone’s way, then settled back into his seat and dug out his phone, waking it into airplane mode. No new messages, of course, but he could look at everything he’d saved for offline review. In particular, Phichit had put so many pictures from the Grand Prix Final up on Instagram that it was a miracle the service hadn’t simply exploded at the barrage. 

Yuuri spent the remainder of the flight flicking through the images while eating his breakfast, grinning at the memories of the competition and the banquet. No alcohol for him this time, but there had been plenty of laughter - the good kind, the kind that meant he was wanted, not an interloper into a gathering of his betters. Even if Chris had been dangling glasses of champagne at him at every opportunity, while strongly hinting that Victor should do the same. 

After the plane landed, Yuuri’s phone lit up with more notifications, enough to see him through customs. There were a few more things from Victor, sent before their flight to St. Petersburg had left, mostly sweet reminders of Victor’s affection and selfies with every member of the Russian figure skating team, and then one message assuring Yuuri that Victor had arrived safely in Russia. After that, there was nothing. Yuuri assumed Victor had immediately launched himself into skating practice, choreography, or both. The thought made him smile, and he sent back a message confirming his own safe arrival and wishing Victor his best. 

As Yuuri walked towards the baggage claim, a familiar bark startled him, and he glanced up to see Makkachin begging up on the glass that separated the secure area from the rest of the airport. He instinctively looked for Victor before realizing to his surprise that the figure on the other end of Makkachin’s leash was Mari. She looked up at the sound of Makkachin’s barks, then nodded at him and got to her feet.

“Mari-nee-” was as far as Yuuri got before Makkachin’s paws hit his midsection, knocking the wind out of him; it was amazing how spry the poodle was, given his age. “H-hi, Makkachin, good boy…” Makkachin wagged his tail, then pushed off of Yuuri and looked expectantly past him.

Oh.

“Ah… Victor’s not coming,” he said, and Mari raised an eyebrow at him. Makkachin looked up at him with a faint whine. 

“Is something wrong?” Mari asked, frowning. She looked oddly protective, which was a bit startling. “Where is he?”

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” Yuuri said quickly, waving his hands in front of him. “He just - he’s going back to skating, like he announced in Barcelona, so he had to go back to Russia with his coach to practice. The Russian Nationals are soon, so…”

Mari shook her head, then gave Yuuri an appraising look. “And you’re okay with this?”

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Yeah. I am.” He gave Mari a weary but genuine smile. “Victor loves the ice, Mari-neechan. I’m excited that he’ll be going back to it.”

“And does he also love you?”

The question was so blunt that Yuuri actually took a step back. Yes, Mari was definitely protective - of him. “He does,” Yuuri said quietly. 

Mari searched his face, then nodded. “Come on. Let’s get your bags.” 

It didn’t take them long to retrieve Yuuri’s luggage, and from there the way back to Hasetsu was rote: the bus to Hakata Station, and the train to Hasetsu. Mari made idle small talk until they were safely ensconced on the train, facing each other with Makkachin nestled on the floor between them. Mari looked out the window and drummed her fingers against the armrest, an idle habit she defaulted to when she wanted to smoke but couldn’t. 

“I haven’t told Mom and Dad anything,” she said, after a moment. “I mean, they aren’t stupid - your rings got pointed out in the commentary before your short program, not to mention that exhibition skate of yours.” She raised one eyebrow at Yuuri, who blushed. “They asked me, of course, but I told them to ask you when you got back. Wasn’t my place.” 

Yuuri nodded. “Okay. Thank you… I’m sorry to put you in the middle like this.”

Mari snorted. “They talked to me for all of ten minutes before I told them I was going to bed. It’s not a hardship. Besides, they deserve to hear it from you. It’s too important to leave to anyone else, right?”

“Y-yeah. You’re right.” Yuuri looked down for a moment. Part of him wished Mari had told his parents everything, but he really couldn’t sidestep this. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t want to, despite what his anxiety had to say on the subject. What he and Victor had was real, and precious, and if he was too scared to take it seriously he might as well throw his ring off the train right now. His left hand went immediately to his right, thumb stroking over the gold there, reassuringly solid. “I’ll talk to them.”

“When you’re ready,” Mari added. “If you need to take a nap as soon as you get back, that’s fine. It’s not exactly a short flight from Barcelona to here. But after that…” 

“I slept okay on the plane,” Yuuri assured her. “I mean, yes, I’m tired, but I think I want to talk to them first.”

Mari grinned at him. “Good. I’m sure they’re dying to know everything.”

......

It took longer than Yuuri had thought to make his way back to Yu-topia; the posters cheering him on at the Grand Prix Final were still papering the station, and quite a few people stopped him to shake his hand. Yuuri did his best, remembering Minako’s lectures and Victor’s own arch criticism of how he treated his fans, though the idea of Yuuri _having_ fans was still a bit boggling to him. Still, the well-wishing added a good half-hour to his journey home, and by the time they arrived at the inn Yuuri was starting to flag.

Still, he wasn’t going to go to bed without talking to his parents, if only because he was certain his brain would fuss over the impending conversation until he had it. 

Makkachin strained towards the inn’s entrance as they approached. Mari let the dog off leash, and he bounded through the entrance archway, sniffing around a bit and watering a tree before sitting down next to the front door. “I’m glad Vicchan wasn’t this big,” Mari muttered, coiling the leash up. “He pulls awfully hard for such an old dog.”

Yuuri dragged his suitcase over the cobbles, then bent to scratch Makkachin behind the ears. “Don’t worry. Victor will be back soon,” he told the dog, and Makkachin wagged his tail and leaned hard into the scratch. 

Mari opened the inn’s front door, sending Makkachin scrambling to dive through the doorway ahead of her. “We’re back,” she announced, and Yuuri hurried to get himself and his things inside before too much heat escaped. The foyer was warm and welcoming, the familiar scents of food, wood polish, and distant steam immediately reassuring. 

“I’m home,” Yuuri echoed, slipping his shoes off. 

“Yuuri! Vicchan! Welcome back!” His mother’s eager footsteps were accompanied by the soft scrape of dog paws; Makkachin trotted happily beside her as she rounded the corner, her cheeks pink and her smile wide. “Oh? Where’s Vicchan?”

“He had to take care of something important in Russia,” Yuuri explained, taking off his coat and setting it aside before hugging his mother tightly. “He’ll be back for New Years, though. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay!” She beamed at him. A moment later, Yuuri’s father joined her, and Yuuri bobbed a quick bow in his direction.

They were both here. It was time. Yuuri took a deep breath. “Mom? Dad?”

“Yes? What is it? Are you hungry? Tired? I can make you some katsudon-”

Yuuri shook his head. “No - I mean, yes, I’m tired, but I had breakfast on the airplane and-” He was getting off topic. Yuuri drew himself up straight and bowed formally to his parents, doing his best to ignore their surprised expressions. “I need to talk to you about something important! So, please… please listen!” 

The two of them exchanged a look, in the way of couples who’ve known each other a long, long time. “Of course, Yuuri,” his father said, smiling. 

“Have fun. I’m going to take a nap,” Mari said, yawning and stepping past them, giving Yuuri a reassuring clap on the back.

They ended up in the family sitting room, with Yuuri sitting down stiffly opposite his parents, trying not to over-analyze their every movement. Like Mari had said, they weren’t stupid - they probably had at least some idea of what he was about to say. He took another deep breath to steady himself.

“Mom? Dad? I… that is, Victor and I, we’re… we’re engaged,” he said, shakily holding up his right hand so they could see the ring. “I-I know it’s sudden, but... please give us your blessing!” He bowed again, planting his hands on the floor and holding the pose, his heart thundering in his ears. It _was_ sudden, wasn’t it? Too sudden? Had they gone about this all wrong? Surely-

A soft chuckle interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see his parents smiling warmly at him, their expressions fond. “Yuuri, it’s okay,” his father reassured him. “Don’t worry.”

“We’re so happy for you and Vicchan,” his mother added, and Yuuri realized with a start that she had tears in her eyes. “Sit up and tell us all about it.”

Yuuri heaved a sigh of relief and offered his parents a shaky smile as he sat up again, settling back onto the cushion. “I, ah… I guess I decided suddenly? But Victor agreed, and… there was this church, and… er...”

His mother chuckled again and glanced at her husband. “So impatient, Yuuri. Just like your father,” she added, and the two of them shared another knowing, amused look. “As long as you’re both happy - Vicchan’s been almost like family already, and it’s easy to see that he cares for you. So if you’re happy, Yuuri…” 

“I am happy,” Yuuri confirmed. “Very happy. Um.” Another deep breath. “Victor is… he’s going to go back to competitive skating, too. And I’m not going to retire yet, either. He’s still going to be my coach, so…”

“Oh?” His father leaned forward slightly. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Does that mean you won’t be staying here?” his mother asked.

“Victor’s coach is in Russia. He asked me to move in with him in St. Petersburg so we could keep training together, and I said I would, so… I’m sorry.”

She nodded slowly, but her smile remained fond, understanding. “Yuuri, we’ve always supported you no matter where you are - and now you’ll be with someone who loves you. And it’s closer than Detroit, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. I think maybe we can visit more often? Victor likes it here,” Yuuri said, then yawned hugely. He made a face; now that the adrenaline was ebbing, the exhaustion of the long flight and the jet lag was starting to hit him hard. “Sorry, it was a very long trip…”

“That’s all right, Yuuri. Go get some sleep,” his father said, getting to his feet. “Other things can come later.”

“And you said Vicchan will be here for New Years? That’s wonderful,” his mother added, and Yuuri could practically see the plans lining up in her mind. “But yes, take a nice long nap. Do you want any food before you go?”

“No, no… I think I’m fine,” Yuuri said, smothering another yawn as he stood up. “Thanks, Dad. Mom.” 

“Of course, Yuuri,” his father said, nodding to him. 

Yuuri collected his luggage and headed for his own room automatically, with Makkachin following in his wake; when he opened the door, though, the room seemed empty and strange, as if it belonged to someone else. Yuuri sighed and closed the door again, dragging his suitcase and Makkachin both to Victor’s room instead. Victor’s room was just as empty, of course, but Makkachin jumped up onto the bed and pawed at the sheets for a moment before settling down with a contented sigh. There was that, at least.

Yuuri yawned and knelt down next to his luggage, extracting his phone charger from his backpack before opening the suitcase. He’d intended to just grab a pair of sweats to sleep in, but an unfamiliar shape resting atop his clothes gave him pause. _What…_

It was Victor’s poodle-shaped tissue holder, he realized, and he pulled the thing free of the suitcase with a soft chuckle. Not just that, either - there was a bit of folded paper tucked into the top of the tissue box, a note in English, in Victor’s handwriting on the stationary from their Barcelona hotel.

 _Don’t forget I’m cheering for you, my Yuuri. I love you!!!_  
❤ _Victor_

Yuuri shook his head and tucked the note back into the box before hugging the toy poodle tightly, warmth blooming in his chest. When had that made its way into his suitcase? Sneaky Victor. He dug through the suitcase again until he found a pair of sweats, then changed quickly, bending to plug in his phone charger before slipping into Victor’s bed. The bed linens smelled ever so slightly like him, and Yuuri inhaled deeply as he hugged the toy poodle to his chest. Makkachin shifted to curl against his legs, an additional source of comfort and warmth.

Before he could fall asleep, though, there was one more important thing to do. Yuuri plugged in his phone to charge, then opened up his messages to text Victor.

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 11:13]** Thank you for Makkachin. The little one, though the big one is fine too. He missed you, but I told him you’d be back soon.

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 11:13]** I talked to my parents a little bit. They approve.

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 11:14]** Sorry, I’m really tired so I’m going to take a nap now. Let’s talk later. Good luck today!

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 11:14]** I love you too.

He stared at the phone a moment longer before tucking it under the pillow and taking off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand. Yuuri yawned one more time before snuggling into the blankets and letting his eyes drift closed, surrounded by reminders of Victor’s presence.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri woke to a dark room and an insistent buzzing in his ear; he felt around hurriedly for his phone before remembering he’d tucked it under his pillow. Well, Victor’s pillow. He blinked at the notifications on the screen - so many, and he’d just slept through them all? 

The phone buzzed again in his hands, startling him, and he fumbled for his glasses when he realized it was a video call request. “Morning,” he said muzzily as he accepted the call, slipping his glasses on with his free hand and switching on the bedside lamp. 

“Time zones are _awful_ , Yuuri,” Victor said, and Yuuri smiled as he focused on the screen. Victor was smiling right back at him, one of those soft tender smiles that made Yuuri’s heart flutter. “I don’t think I’ll ever figure them out.”

“It’s not your fault. I wouldn’t usually be asleep in the afternoon.” Yuuri squinted at the time on his phone and made a face. It wasn’t as late as he’d feared - just five o’clock in the evening - but six hours was still a little too long for a nap. No wonder Makkachin had left the room at some point. “How are you doing? I didn’t worry you too much, did I?”

“No, no, you need your sleep,” Victor assured him with an airy gesture. Yuuri couldn’t quite tell where Victor was; the background was just a nondescript off-white wall. “I’m just glad I didn’t wake you up too early.”

Yuuri yawned. “No, I needed to get up. It’s going to be hard enough to sleep later as it is.” Victor was right, time zones were awful. “How’s… everything?”

Victor grinned. “It was good, heading back out on the ice. I missed this old rink, freezing cold hallways and all. Yakov is beside himself, of course. Victor-this-is-ridiculous, Victor-you’re-impossible.” He sighed happily. “It’s as if I never left.” 

Yuuri tried to imagine that interplay between Victor and Yakov and couldn’t quite manage it. He’d met Yakov before, of course, and seen his interactions with Victor from a fan’s perspective, but the man had always seemed very stolid and serious in public. Maybe he was different outside of competitions. “What does he think about your chances for Nationals?”

“Oh, he says I’m out of shape and I’ll never amount to anything,” Victor said cheerfully. “But he says that all the time, so I’m not worried.” He turned contemplative then, tilting his head slightly to one side. “It’s a little different, I suppose. I remember exactly what to do on the ice, but sometimes my body resists it. Yurio seems to think it’s hilarious.” 

Victor didn’t seem bothered, but the thought made Yuuri’s heart sink; that was his fault, wasn’t it? Victor hadn’t been a slouch, of course, but coaching simply wasn’t as physically rigorous as actually skating competitively. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly.

Victor gave him a sharp look. “Stop that, Yuuri. It’s only natural to be a little bit out of shape, and coaching you was _my_ choice. You didn’t force me to come to Hasetsu, and I don’t regret any of it.” There was that soft, sweet smile again; Yuuri felt his cheeks warm. “Besides, it feels good to push myself more. Yurio won’t be laughing for much longer.” Victor’s expression took on a sly edge, and Yuuri chuckled despite himself. Realistically, Yurio would surpass both of them in time, but he liked Victor’s cheerful defiance. 

Yuuri sat up and adjusted the pillow so he could lean against the headboard, giving Victor a better view of his face. “Do you have any choreography yet?” For anyone else, the question would be beyond ludicrous, but Victor was Victor. 

“I never stopped planning bits of routines in my head, Yuuri. Be honest, you didn’t either, even when you took a break.” Yuuri nodded slowly. Even though he’d never brought any of his ideas to Celestino, he had often pondered choreographic sequences during idle moments. He’d only really stopped after last year’s Grand Prix Final, when the sting of it became too much to bear. Presumably Victor didn’t have that particular problem. “So it’s just a matter of picking up the bits and putting them in order,” Victor continued, as if were the easiest thing in the world.

Yuuri snorted. “Oh, is that all it takes? Maybe I should go change my free skate before the Nationals, too. Keep you on your toes.” 

“Yurio is quite enough to keep me on my toes,” Victor said, amused. “But no, I’m not choreographing everything myself. I asked Yakov for help, just like old times. He didn’t seem to appreciate the nostalgia, though.” Victor looked thoughtful again, and Yuuri smothered a laugh. “But oh - Yuuri, yes, perfect! Here, just a minute. I need your opinion.” The camera shook as Victor moved his phone, and for a moment Yuuri had a very odd view of Victor’s face from below, quick taps invading the audio as Victor did something. “There’s no time to commission a piece, so I have to choose from what’s available already… here, listen, what do you think of this one?”

The music started before Yuuri could reply, a swift, playful dance of strings and woodwind. Yuuri closed his eyes and listened, trying to picture Victor skating to it. In the past, the pieces Victor had used had been a bit more… serious, perhaps? Weighty with meaning, at the very least, a story shaped from choreography and music together, particularly in the years before lyrics had been allowed in competition music. This was something different, something light and effervescent, and Yuuri found himself smiling as the music ended with a rising flourish. “I like it,” he said, into the hopeful silence. “It’s different from what I’d expected.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Victor sounded delighted; when Yuuri opened his eyes and refocused on the screen, his fiancé was practically sparkling with anticipation. “I think I’ll use that one for my short program.”

“What about your free program?” Yuuri asked, curious.

Victor just grinned at him, bringing one finger to his lips. “Ah, Yuuri, you know I always surprise my audience, including you. _Especially_ you.”

_What does that mean?_ Yuuri peered at Victor, hoping for some little tell that might betray what he was planning, but no such luck. Victor could be frustratingly good at keeping secrets when he wanted to be, particularly since Victor being thousands of miles away seriously hindered Yuuri’s favorite methods of persuasion. “I’ll look forward to it,” Yuuri said at last.

“Please do!” Victor flashed him a V-sign before letting out another happy sigh. “Ah, Yuuri, I can’t wait for you to be here too. My apartment is too empty, especially since I know you’ll be in it before too much longer.”

“I don’t know if you can tell from the background, but I’m actually in your room here right now,” Yuuri admitted. “I went to sleep in your bed.”

“Ah! That’s not fair,” Victor pouted. “And I have nothing here to remind me of my Yuuri… well, except this.” He lifted his right hand into the frame and brushed his lips over his ring, his eyes closing as he did so. The gesture was genuine, not something for show; something personal, something theirs.

The sight made Yuuri ache, and as Victor opened his eyes again Yuuri followed suit. They’d done this at the Grand Prix Final, but that had been different - a quick, if vital, gesture to draw strength and purpose for a brief time. This time, Yuuri lingered over the kiss, willing it to pass over the miles between them. As he lowered his hand from his lips, he could see the emotion in Victor’s eyes. 

“I miss you,” Victor admitted, his voice low.

“I miss you too,” Yuuri said, sighing. It felt like forever since they’d last been together, with the long plane trip and the vagaries of time zones skewing his perception even more. He made a face. “How can ten days be so long and so short at the same time?”

“I feel the same way,” Victor said wistfully. He seemed to steady himself then, offering Yuuri a wry smile. “But I won’t waste this time, and neither should you. When will you be training next? I need to coach you, too. Don’t think for a second that my training is more important than yours.”

Yuuri winced; that was a little too close to the mark. “Understood. Ah… probably not tonight, it’s getting late. If I go out to Ice Castle, it won’t be for anything serious. Tomorrow? What’s the time difference between there and here?”

“Six hours. So… perhaps warm up by yourself at Ice Castle, and I can call you at noon your time? That will be early enough to not conflict with my own practice. I won't be starting until nine in the morning here.”

“That sounds perfect,” Yuuri replied, relaxing a bit. Plans were good. Knowing concretely when he’d get to talk with Victor again was even better. 

“Good.” Victor looked to one side for a moment, as if listening to a sound Yuuri couldn’t hear over the phone, then focused back on Yuuri again. “Before I go back, Yuuri... what did your parents say?” Victor’s voice became quieter, and he moved the phone closer to his face. “You talked to them? They approved?” 

Yuuri smiled at his fiancé, who was now a little blurry and uncentered on the screen. “They did,” he said softly, letting himself properly feel that joy, too. Earlier, he’d been too tired and his nerves too frayed to appreciate it. Now, he thought of the gentle smiles on his parents’ faces, of Mari’s support and her own brand of reassurance, and let that warm happiness steady him. “They seem really happy, Victor. Mom said you were part of the family.”

Victor let out a long breath that blew out the audio in a crackle of static. “Ah, Yuuri~ I’m so happy,” Victor said, his cheeks faintly flushed with pleasure. 

“Yeah. Me too.” Yuuri was fully aware that his answering grin was lovestruck, a little silly, but that didn’t bother him one bit. It was accurate, after all. “Everything will be just fine, Victor. They’re excited you’ll be here for New Years, too.” 

Victor lit up even further, which Yuuri wouldn’t have believed was possible if he hadn’t seen it. “Yes! Yuuri, I want to learn _everything_ about your traditions! I want to eat all the food and go to the temple and get a… kimono?”

Yuuri laughed. “A kimono, yes.” Victor in a kimono was an unexpectedly delightful thought - something with rich colors and detailed embroidery would look amazing on him. “Let’s go together when you get back from Nationals.”

“Okay!” Another V-sign and bright grin, and then an indistinct noise in the background drew Victor’s attention away from the phone again. When he turned back, he had a wistful expression on his face. “Apparently this is too long for a bathroom break,” he muttered. 

“You told Yakov you were going on a bathroom break?” Yuuri stared. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Victor assured him, then glanced away once more. “Ah! Yurio! Look, Yuuri, it’s Yurio, say hi-”

The image on the screen tilted, blurred, and ended up at an odd angle, trying to focus on someone who did indeed seem to be Yuri Plisetsky, and who did not seem at all interested in saying hi. Yurio said something sharp in Russian; Victor answered in an easy tone that made Yurio fold his arms and glare. “Oh, well. I suppose I should get back to practice,” Victor said in English, tilting the camera back up so that the frame included both Victor and Yurio.

Yurio’s annoyed gaze focused on the camera for a second; the image waggled again, and Yuuri could imagine Victor waving the phone at Yurio, trying to get a reaction out of him. “If this is how seriously you take practice, you’re not going to end up anywhere near the podium,” Yurio said in English, glaring at Victor. “Tell him that, katsudon.” 

“He’s probably right,” Yuuri said, quickly running one hand through his hair so he didn’t look quite so rumpled by sleep; Victor seeing him that way was one thing, but Yurio was something else entirely. “Go on, Victor. Should I bring Makkachin with me tomorrow so you can see him too?”

“Yes! Perfect! He loves visiting Ice Castle,” Victor said effusively. Yurio rolled his eyes. 

Yuuri paused for a long moment, but Yurio didn’t show any sign of moving. He probably wasn’t going to leave without Victor in tow. Yuuri sighed. “Good luck, Victor,” he said, his voice low, though there was no chance Yurio wouldn’t hear him too. “I love you.”

Victor’s smile turned soft and fluttery; Yurio abruptly ducked out of view, as if realizing that he actually didn’t want to be anywhere near Victor. “I love you too, my Yuuri,” Victor said. “Be well.”

“You’d better meet me at Worlds so I can crush you into the ground, katsudon,” Yurio added from offscreen before the call ended.

Yuuri sat back, a faint smile on his face. For all his snapping and grumbling, Yurio _did_ care. He’d always cared about Victor, of course, but the idea that Yurio might genuinely care about Yuuri too was strangely reassuring. 

The mention of katsudon had also reminded Yuuri’s stomach that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast on the plane, and that was unacceptable. He stretched and got out of bed, running his hands through his hair once more. He’d more than earned a bowl of katsudon, hadn’t he? Medal and all, even if it wasn’t gold. 

They might be apart for now, but Victor was on the ice again, and happy. Smiling to himself, Yuuri tucked his phone into his pocket and went out in search of a well-deserved celebratory meal.


	4. Chapter 4

Hasetsu was beautiful in the winter.

It had been years since he’d seen the town like this, since he’d moved back to Hasetsu in the spring. Not counting the freak snowstorm on the day Victor had arrived, of course, since Yuuri’s memories of that day were definitely _not_ about the weather. No, that was all confusion mixed with disbelief mixed with a thousand other emotions, because Victor Nikiforov was in the hot spring, Victor Nikiforov was artfully asleep on the floor, Victor Nikiforov was winking at him with a bright grin that Yuuri couldn’t begin to parse...

Somehow, they’d gotten from that point to this one. Yuuri still wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened.

The winter sun was thin but bright, sparkling off the waves as Yuuri kept up his jogging pace towards Ice Castle. Makkachin trotted alongside him, keeping up fairly well, though Yuuri slowed every so often to be sure he wasn’t pushing the poodle too hard. 

As he ran, he let his mind wander. The cry of a seagull on the wind reminded him of Victor, of how he said the gulls here had been reminiscent of St. Petersburg. He tried to imagine them together in Russia, filling in the background with photos from old magazine spreads about Victor, but that just made it seem more unreal. At some point, he’d mentally separated Victor-in-magazines from Victor-his-fiancé. What he’d once interpreted as brilliant smiles on his old posters of Victor now seemed stiff and forced compared to the real thing. The way Victor smiled now...

The thought warmed him all the way through, and he was smiling too as he made it to the top of the Ice Castle steps. Yuuri pushed the door open with a sigh of relief, holding it so Makkachin could lope inside too. 

“Welcome back, Yuuri-kun!” Yuuko looked up from behind the counter with a cheerful wave. “Ah, and Makkachin too.” Her eyes were bright with barely-contained excitement as she leaned over the counter towards them. “Congratulations! I knew you could do it!” 

Yuuri had been so wrapped up in thoughts of St. Petersburg that it took a second for him to realize she was talking about the Grand Prix Final rather than, say, being engaged to Victor Nikiforov. “Ah, um- yes! Thank you,” he said, giving her a quick bow. 

“And beating Victor’s world record too…” Yuuko let out a dreamy sigh and rested her chin in her hands. “I’m so proud of you, Yuuri-kun.”

Yuuri was definitely blushing now. “T-thank you for cheering me on, Yuu-chan. I, um, brought the medal with me, actually, in case you wanted to-”

“The medal?!” 

Yuuri jumped as three identical heads popped up from behind the counter, all three sharing the same fascinated and far too calculating expression. He quickly slipped off his backpack and unzipped the front pocket, digging out the bundle of socks he’d carefully wrapped the silver medal in. “Just be careful with it,” he said, unfolding the socks and tugging the medal free before holding it out towards the triplets. 

“A _real_ Grand Prix Final medal!” The offering was immediately engulfed in a flurry of small hands and phones. Yuuri sighed and gave Yuuko a sheepish smile. 

She grinned at him. “That’ll keep them busy for a while. And if they damage it, I’ll throw them into the ocean,” she added, raising her voice in the triplets’ direction before turning back to Yuuri. “How’s Victor?”

“Oh, er - he’s not here,” Yuuri began, but Yuuko cut off his explanation with an understanding nod.

“I know, he’s training in St. Petersburg. It’s big news.” She took her phone out and fiddled with it for a second before handing it to Yuuri with an article on the screen. The headline read _Victor Nikiforov Returns to the Ice!_. “It doesn’t say much about you, though. Is he still going to be your coach?” 

Yuuri frowned as he scrolled through the article. He couldn’t fault people for being excited that Victor was going to return to competitive skating, especially since he was excited, too. Still, the way this particular article put it sounded as if Yuuri hadn’t been much more than a pet project, now set aside… 

Yuuri locked the phone and handed it back to Yuuko. “Yes. He is,” he said, a little louder than he’d meant to. “After the Nationals, we’re going to move back to St. Petersburg together. I’ll be training there with him.” 

The triplets made a disappointed sound, and Yuuri realized they’d started eavesdropping. “You managed fine without him and Victor before,” Yuuko told her daughters pointedly before turning back to Yuuri. “That’s wonderful, though!” She was back to that dreamy expression again, though Yuuri wasn’t sure why-

“So when’s the wedding?”

_There_ it was. Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Ah! Um. Wedding?” 

Yuuko chuckled. “We all saw the rings, there were the Instagram posts, that beautiful pair skating you two did at the exhibition…” She trailed off expectantly, grinning at him. 

Her smile was infectious, so genuine that Yuuri smiled back, his embarrassment fading. “Um, we haven’t set a date yet,” he admitted, tugging the glove off his right hand and holding his hand up so she could see the ring. “But we will.”

“It’s _true_ ,” the triplets gasped in unison; a second later one of them was taking a picture of him, another was shoving the Grand Prix Final medal back into his free hand, and the last was furiously tapping at her phone. Then they scampered away, whispering, and Yuuko drew herself up as if to shout at them.

“It’s okay, Yuu-chan,” Yuuri said quickly. “I mean, they’re right. It _is_ true. It’s not a secret, we just haven’t made any formal announcements.” To be honest, he hadn’t thought there would be a need to do anything like that, other than talking to his family. Was this news? It was probably news. Damn. 

At least they could worry about that later. Their figure skating careers were public knowledge, but that didn’t mean people were owed that level of information about everything. They could think whatever they wanted about Phichit’s pictures and the triplets’ social media and their exhibition skate. Right now, the most important thing for him and Victor was the Nationals.

“I’m happy for you both,” Yuuko said, drawing Yuuri’s focus back to her. “I was a little worried for you, after… well, after _my_ wedding.”

Yuuri made an embarrassed noise. He should have known Yuuko would remember his not-so-little crush, back in the days before he’d moved to Detroit. He’d gone to America primarily to train and go to university, of course, but also a little so he wouldn’t have to be _here_ and…

Well, his initial performance of Victor’s _Stay Close to Me_ had captured some of that lonely feeling, that wistful reminiscence for when everything was simpler and the stakes were lower. And that performance had helped bring Victor to him. Yuuri gave Yuuko a lopsided smile. “I’m okay, Yuu-chan. We both are.”

She nodded, understanding, and Yuuri took a deep breath, trying to focus again. He had come to Ice Castle for a reason, after all. “Yuu-chan, will you help me out today? Victor is going to call me around noon, a video call so he can coach me a little. Can you keep my phone while I warm up and answer it when he calls? Maybe help keep the camera on me when I skate so he can see how I’m doing?”

“Of course! Does that mean Victor isn’t coming back here, though?” 

“No, no, he’ll be back to get Makkachin and all his stuff.” Yuuri glanced down, remembering the dog’s presence, and found Makkachin curled up and dozing on one of the mats in front of the rental desk. “It’s just for right now, for the Nationals.”

“And he’s going to come up with all his programs and be ready in ten days?” Yuuko shook her head in amazement. “That’s incredible.” 

“If anyone can do it, it’s Victor,” Yuuri said, hefting his backpack before gently tapping Makkachin to wake him. “I’d better start getting warmed up. Here,” he added, handing Yuuko his phone. 

“I’ll take good care of it,” she assured him. “Have fun, Yuuri-kun.”

“I will,” Yuuri called back, and headed for the lockers with Makkachin in tow. 

........

 

It was a delight to step out onto the ice once more.

Yuuri went through his warm-up, tracing long loops around the otherwise empty rink, interweaving more strenuous elements as he felt ready to do them. This, too, felt like a reminder of simpler times. How many long nights had he spent alone on the ice here, either the only person in an empty building or with Minako watching quietly over him from the viewing area? He’d always turned to skating as an escape of sorts, letting the exertion ground him and the whip of air past him tug the worries from his mind. 

At least, he had until the worries had grown more tenacious. 

But the grounding effect was still there, along with the satisfaction. Yuuri landed a triple toe loop with a well of contentment. _This_ was why he skated, why he wanted to keep going - the joy of it, the expression, the adrenaline bursts followed by a tide of grace. Everything he’d poured into _Yuri on Ice_.

Yuuri lost himself in the rhythm of his movements, from jump to glide to step sequence and back again; when Yuuko called out to him, it felt like being woken out of a dream. “Yuuri-kun! Victor’s on the phone!” 

Yuuri looked up, blinking. It felt like he’d only just started his warm-up, but the clock on the wall said otherwise. He changed directions and headed for where Yuuko stood at the barrier, holding his phone up in one hand. “Victor! Good morning.” 

“Good morning, Yuuri,” Victor said, smiling warmly. He looked polished and prepared for the day, wearing his Russian team jacket, and Yuuri gave him a perplexed look. The background looked like the same off-white wall as in their call the day before, when Victor had presumably been at his home rink. 

It was six in the morning in St. Petersburg. Why wasn’t Victor at his apartment? 

“Something wrong?” Victor continued, and Yuuri pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. Victor typically woke up before he did, anyway, and the jet lag from Barcelona was probably hitting him too, if less intensely. 

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Yuuri grinned at him. “You’re right. It _is_ good to be back on the ice.” 

Victor chuckled. “It is, isn’t it,” he said with satisfaction. “And you look all warmed up.” He looked as though he was going to say something else, but instead he paused and just smiled at Yuuri again. “Ready to go? I thought we should work on your short program today.”

“Yes, definitely. Yuu-chan, is that okay?” Yuuri glanced up at her. 

“Leave it to me. Here, hold this for a second?” She passed Yuuri back his phone, then went to the rink entrance; Yuuri realized she was already wearing her skates, just needing to take the guards off before she joined him on the ice. 

He glanced down at Victor, then squinted at the screen. For a moment, he thought he’d seen something off in Victor’s gaze, like the exhausted distant look he’d had after their argument during the Grand Prix Final. “Are you okay?” Yuuri said quietly, ducking his head for what little privacy that provided. 

“I’m fine, Yuuri. Just a little tired.” Victor lifted one finger to his lips. “You’re not stalling, are you?”

“What? No,” Yuuri began, then looked up at the sound of skates on ice. “Ah, Yuu-chan’s ready.”

“Thank you! _Arigato gozaimasu!_ ” Victor said loudly, beaming into the camera.

Yuuri turned the phone quickly so Victor could see Yuuko skating up to him, holding her gloved hands out. She grinned and gave Victor a little wave before taking the phone. “Of course! Just tell me if you want me to do anything in particular.”

“Just following Yuuri, for now. I’ll tell you if I want a closer look.”

Yuuri stretched, then squared his shoulders and skated to center ice. Without his glasses, he couldn’t make out the phone screen at all. He’d just imagine that Victor was at the side of the rink, calling out to him from there instead of from thousands of miles away. “From the beginning, Victor?”

“From the beginning,” Victor confirmed. 

Yuuri took a deep breath and began to move.

It was a little strange, doing this routine again; up until a few days ago, he’d been certain that the short program performance at the Grand Prix Final would be the last time. Stranger was the lack of Victor standing rinkside. _Eros_ was all flirts and charms, and something about the choreography felt uncentered without Victor’s physical presence. Yuuko kept moving around to track him with the phone camera, too, which didn’t help.

Still, it felt better than it had at the Grand Prix Final, when he’d been so focused on wringing every possible point out of the technical aspects that everything else had slipped. Yuuri flew through the final jump combination and the spin, feeling something loosen inside him as he swept his arms up into the final pose, some tension he’d been carrying since his last performance. He hadn’t skated the routine perfectly, but it no longer felt like crushing failure. 

“Hmmm.”

Yuuri lowered his arms and turned towards the sound of Victor’s voice. “The core elements are sound, but your flirts are all over the place,” Victor continued. “What are you centering off of when you do this usually?” 

_Really?_ Yuuri raised his eyebrows in the camera’s general direction. “You,” he said, leaving the _as if you didn’t know_ unspoken. 

“Ah, I can stand in one place if that would be better,” Yuuko interjected, tilting the phone up slightly. 

“No, no, it’s better if you keep moving.” Victor frowned for a moment, then brightened. “I know - Yuuri, did you bring Makkachin? The little one, not the big one.”

“Oh! Yes. I brought both, actually, but hang on-” Yuuri skated back to where he’d left the poodle tissue holder balanced on the barrier. He hadn’t placed it with any particular care, and it was the work of a moment to shift it over to where Victor usually stood. “Like this, Victor?”

“Exactly. Use that instead, for now,” Victor confirmed. “Though obviously it’s not as good as looking at me.”

“Obviously,” Yuuri echoed, rolling his eyes and giving Yuuko a sheepish smile. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. “I’m going to run through it again, okay?”

“Go ahead,” Victor said, and Yuuri returned to center ice. 

The second attempt was better; the poodle tissue holder was definitely not as good as Victor, but it helped. Yuuri stopped trying to track Yuuko’s presence so closely, trusting her to move when she needed to, and the choreography began to coalesce once more. Again, Yuuri lost track of time as they continued to work, refining a movement here, polishing a jump’s entry there.

And, once again, it was a shock when another voice intruded, especially since this one was unexpected. The sound of a cheerful female voice speaking in Russian brought Yuuri to a halt, and he turned towards Yuuko in surprise. Victor responded, also in Russian, and Yuuko quickly brought the phone to Yuuri.

“Sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said, giving Yuuri an apologetic look. “Here, you remember Mila, don’t you?” 

The camera shifted, and Mila smiled and waved. “Hi, Yuuri!” 

“Ah, yes - good morning,” Yuuri managed, bobbing his head to her. 

“Victor told me you’re moving to St. Petersburg,” she continued, her eyes bright. “I’m excited! So is Yurio, no matter what he says.”

“Oh, um, thank you. I’m excited too - Victor’s told me so much about everyone,” Yuuri replied, brushing his hair away from his face. “Sorry, I was just in the middle of practice.”

“Oh - I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I just heard Victor talking and went to find him,” Mila said, wincing. “I’ll leave you two alone, then. Victor, Yakov wants you on the ice in fifteen minutes,” she added, still in English for Yuuri’s benefit. 

Victor nodded to her. “I’ll be there soon.”

“I’ll let him know. Bye, Yuuri! _Davai!_ ” Mila waved again before moving out of sight, and Yuuri heard her receding footsteps echo a bit as she left whatever room Victor was in. 

Victor opened his mouth to say something, but Yuuri cut him off. “Hang on, Victor- Yuu-chan, I’m going to talk to Victor for a little bit, okay?”

“No problem. Bye, Victor! Just let me know when you need my help again, Yuuri-kun.” Yuuko waved at Victor and headed for the rink entrance. 

Yuuri let out a sigh. He wasn’t used to his time with Victor being limited, and he didn’t like it one bit. “Already?” he asked Victor in a low tone, skating towards the rink entrance himself once Yuuko had left. It didn’t feel as though three hours had passed, though when he’d been waiting for Victor to arrive, the seeming shortness had been a blessing. Now it was just irritating.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Victor said, sounding frustrated. “I’m sorry, Yuuri. Maybe we should pick a different time for tomorrow?”

Yuuri considered, then shook his head. “No. If this works for you, let’s keep doing it. I don’t want to interrupt the middle of your practice, and waiting until after you’re done... I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t feel right asking Yuu-chan to stay up that late to help.”

“Time zones,” Victor muttered darkly, adding something in Russian that Yuuri suspected was an expletive. 

“It’s fine, really - I can warm up without you, and we’ll spend all the time you have on refining the programs. Everything else I can do on my own, or at Minako-sensei’s studio. You know how much she’s helped me before.” Yuuri gave Victor a stubborn look. “I’ve been practicing these routines all season. _I broke your world record._ I can do this.”

Victor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know you can, Yuuri, that’s not the point-” 

Yuuri quickly put the phone down on the barrier and slipped on his skate guards. “I’m not going to let you burn yourself out for my sake,” he said, grabbing his glasses from where they’d rested next to the poodle tissue holder. “I’m not saying my training is less important, but I’m starting from a stronger position than you are and you know it.” 

He picked up the phone again and looked down at Victor. His fiancé was smiling back at him, but something about it felt strained. Yuuri let out a frustrated breath. “Hang on. I’m getting Makkachin.”

“Yuuri-”

“ _I’m getting Makkachin,_ ” Yuuri repeated firmly. “You didn’t get to see him yesterday. Makkachin!” he called out, and a moment later the dog’s fluffy head poked up from behind one of the benches. “There you are. See, he’s fine!” He came up next to the poodle and leaned down, angling the camera so Victor could see. 

There was a pause. Then Victor cooed something in Russian, and Makkachin lifted his ears and wagged his tail. Yuuri smiled. “I’m taking good care of him,” he said, shifting to sit on the floor next to Makkachin so he could get both of them in the frame at once.

“I know you are. Thank you.” 

And there was that tired, distant look in Victor’s gaze again, and suddenly Yuuri couldn’t stand it any more.

“Call me tonight,” Yuuri said abruptly. Victor’s eyes widened in surprise at Yuuri’s sudden intensity. “When you’re done. When you’re home. I know it’s going to be late for me. I don’t care. _Call me._ ”

Victor stared at him for a moment, then chuckled, low. “All right, my Yuuri.”

“Good luck today.” Yuuri kept his voice quiet. He didn’t want any interruptions this time. “I love you. Tonight. Don’t forget.” 

“I love you too. I won’t forget.” The weariness in Victor’s voice had passed, and Yuuri allowed himself a moment of pride. “Take care.” Victor blew him a kiss, and the screen went dark. 

Yuuri sighed and tucked the phone into his pocket, leaning back against the bench and closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t expected this to be quite so difficult. Makkachin shifted a bit before the dog’s warm weight settled over his lap. Yuuri quietly ran one hand through the curly fur. “I know,” he murmured, half to Makkachin, half to himself.

He let himself have a few more minutes before he stretched and gently moved Makkachin off his lap before standing up. Sitting here and feeling sad wasn’t going to help anyone. Not Victor, not him. If nothing else, that just made time go _slower_. 

Yuuri headed over to the rink entrance, slipping off his skate guards and leaving his phone atop the barrier, right next to the poodle tissue holder. More practice drills, maybe another run-through of _Eros_ with Yuuko observing. Then home, for food and to drop Makkachin off. After that, Minako’s studio for as long as he could hold out. And after _that_ , finally, Victor. No interruptions, no unexpected guests. Just the two of them. 

He smiled grimly and took his glasses off, tucking them under the tissue holder’s plush legs. He wasn’t beaten yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter requires a rating bump for the fic, up to explicit! However, if that's not your jam and you'd prefer not to read that specific scene, you may easily insert a tasteful fade-to-black after the dialogue _sufficient in a pinch_ and resume at the line _right now, Victor felt very close indeed_. (You could also stop reading the chapter at the dialogue stop, but you'll miss a bit of the last scene. Do whatever works for you!) 
> 
> Also, I made some extremely minor edits to Chapter 1 to modify the dates slightly after realizing YoI canon takes place in the '15-'16 skating season. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

Yuuri stifled a yawn and sat up a little straighter; Makkachin grumbled a bit as Yuuri’s movement dislodged him. “Sorry,” Yuuri said quietly, giving the dog a soothing pat, and Makkachin settled again, resting his chin on Yuuri’s knee before his eyes slipped closed again.

Yuuri was a little jealous.

It was past midnight in Hasetsu, and the inn had gone quiet. Yuuri suspected he was the only one awake in the whole building, which wasn’t really unusual, but the lingering jet lag was weighing on him hard. Still, the promise of talking to Victor made everything worth it. 

Yuuri reached past Makkachin for his cup of tea. They were on one of the small sofas in Victor’s room, since Yuuri wasn’t at all sure he’d manage to stay awake if he sat on the bed; Makkachin had joined him after a while, though the dog’s presence was less helpful than Yuuri had hoped. The poodle’s warm weight was an encouragement to sleep when Yuuri needed the opposite. 

The tea helped, at least. Yuuri breathed in the jasmine-scented steam and drained half the cup before going back to his phone. 

He’d managed to entirely work his way through the day’s new Instagram posts, no small feat, and had switched to looking at recent skating news instead. At least reading would prevent him from falling asleep before Victor called. 

As Yuuko had mentioned, Victor’s return was big news; on several sites it eclipsed the Grand Prix Final results, to Yuuri’s bemusement. Yuuri read through article after article, all filled with a blend of enthusiasm, excitement, and astonishment at the frankly ludicrous timeline Victor had set for himself. In the past, Victor had so often done what others had considered impossible - why should this be any different?

Still, the more Yuuri read, the more something in his stomach twisted up. It wasn’t about Victor; the articles were overwhelmingly positive, eager to see what he would bring to the Nationals. That part was fine.

What wasn’t fine was what wasn’t there. Over and over, Yuuri read through an article to find next to no mention of himself. He wasn’t missing, not exactly, but he was definitely a footnote, an afterthought. During the Grand Prix series, Yuuri had been so afraid of his failure being attributed to Victor; now, it seemed that his success was just one more bullet point on a list of Victor’s accomplishments. _After taking a brief hiatus to coach Japanese skater Yuuri Katsuki to a silver medal finish in the Grand Prix Final-_

_-returning to the ice after a short stint as a coach-_

_-at last coming back to competitive skating after sitting out the Grand Prix series for the first time in five years-_

And that was all. Over, and over, and over. 

The comments were worse. Yuuri only read a few before quickly closing the browser window. He should have known better than to even look at the comments. Figure skating fans were well known for their rabid defense of their favorite skaters. It didn’t mean anything. 

Right? 

Yuuri let out a long, slow breath. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He _knew_ Victor didn’t think of him that way, as a feel-good success story to be put aside in favor of more important things, but now, when he was alone and tired and missing his fiancé, Yuuri’s anxiety was doing its best to make the thought feel terrifyingly plausible.

The sudden buzz of his phone would have been a good thing no matter what; now, it felt like the sunrise, pushing back the dark. Yuuri sighed with relief and accepted the call, smiling into the camera. “Victor!” he said, shoving away the worries that the articles had summoned up. 

Victor smiled back at him; his surroundings were difficult to make out, as if he were sitting alone in a pool of light. He was still wearing his team jacket. “You’re still awake.”

“Of course I am. I said I would be,” Yuuri said, shifting a bit so that as much light fell on his own face as possible. “You’re at home now, right? Not the rink?”

Victor shifted the camera a bit, making the image blur as it swept across a darkened room. Yuuri couldn’t make out any details, but it was obviously an apartment and not a skating rink. “Safe and sound. See?”

“Good,” Yuuri said, satisfied. “How was your practice today?”

“Oh, it went fine.” Victor waved one hand, almost dismissively. “Yuuri, I-”

“‘Fine’, that’s all? What about your choreography?” Yuuri grinned at him. “I know you don’t want to tell me about your free skate, but that short program - I was thinking about it earlier, that one part where the harp goes _up_ , I could definitely see a flip there, and-”

“ _Yuuri,_ ” Victor said, and Yuuri stopped mid-sentence to re-focus on the phone screen. To his shock, Victor was giving him a pained look, and Yuuri’s stomach twisted again. “Yuuri,” Victor repeated, quieter this time. “Please. Let’s not talk about that right away.”

“What is it?” Yuuri managed, staring at him. “D-did something happen?”

“No! Nothing happened,” Victor replied, shaking his head sharply. “I spent all day on the ice and I loved it, but… it’s so empty here without you. I keep turning to talk to you, reaching out my hand for yours, and you’re not there.” He paused for a moment, as if trying to shape something into words. “I… underestimated how badly I need you,” he admitted, at last. 

Yuuri swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. How could he have ever doubted? “I need you too,” he whispered, wishing desperately that he could somehow reach through the screen and touch Victor. 

“It was cocky, I know,” Victor went on, “saying I’d return at the Nationals, but I haven’t been challenged like this in years. Every second on the ice is exhilarating, but then I come back to this damned empty apartment and I can’t stand it.” He turned away from the camera for a moment, his jaw set in frustration. “That’s why I was at the rink this morning to coach you. At least there are usually people there, even that early.”

Yuuri made a distressed sound. “Victor…”

Victor glanced back at him, his expression shifting into a self-deprecating smile. “See, even the famous Victor Nikiforov isn’t perfect.” 

“You don’t _need_ to be perfect,” Yuuri said, holding the phone tightly in both hands, as if that would somehow communicate his touch to Victor. “I know… I know everything happened so fast, and… god, it hasn’t even been a week since… since _everything_ ,” and the realization hit him hard, too. They hadn’t really had any time to process everything that had happened at the Grand Prix Final, from their engagement to Yuuri’s attempt at ending their coach-student relationship to Victor’s return… every aspect of their relationship had changed hugely, and they’d barely been able to talk about it. As usual, skating had taken precedence. There was so much between them that had been left only barely defined.

Victor must have seen the vaguely stunned look on Yuuri’s face, because he chuckled softly. “That’s about how I feel,” he said quietly. “I admit, it’s a relief to see you feeling it too.”

Yuuri gave Victor a lopsided smile. “The not-so-famous Yuuri Katsuki definitely isn’t perfect.” 

“And that’s part of why I love you so. Perfection can grow stale so easily. You… you’re _real_ , Yuuri. You have always been yourself, and that’s why I can’t take my eyes off you.” 

Warmth bloomed in Yuuri’s chest. “I love you too,” he whispered. “We’ll talk about all this, I promise - after the Nationals, we’ll figure everything out together, in person. For now... can you call me like this every night? That way the coaching part can happen in the morning, and then we’ll have this time too, for other things. Is that okay?”

Victor nodded, and Yuuri could see the sparkle coming back into his blue eyes. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Yuuri. I’m sorry for putting us in this position.”

“No, no! Don’t be,” Yuuri assured him. “Everyone’s so excited about your return, me included. Before you called, I was reading all about it...” 

Yuuri’s voice trailed off as the thought brought all that anxiety rushing back. Victor frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really,” Yuuri said quickly. “It… it’s just something stupid, you don’t need to worry about-”

“Tell me,” Victor insisted, fully focused now. 

Yuuri sighed. “It’s just… all the articles about you coming back, they just don’t mention me, or… us, I guess,” he muttered, feeling foolish. “Stupid, right? It’s about _your_ comeback, not about me at all, I don’t know what I was expecting.” The words were filling his mind now, unbidden, the question aching to be answered.

“...Coaching me wasn’t just another surprise for your audience, right?”

God, it really did sound ridiculous when spoken aloud. Yuuri looked away, embarrassed, and silence stretched between them for what seemed like forever.

Then Victor broke it. “Yuuri,” he said, and the unexpected steel in his voice made Yuuri look up at the phone again. 

His breath caught in his throat. The way Victor was looking at him was indescribably tender and protective, and a large part of his fear and embarrassment unwound all at once. “You surprised _me_ ,” Victor said. “I didn’t know it was _possible_ to feel this way about anyone, and for that to change everything so completely… you revitalize me, Yuuri. I can’t begin to tell you how much that means.” 

Yuuri exhaled shakily. “I-I’m glad,” he whispered, certain that his voice would crack if he spoke any louder. “I still don’t know how I could do that, but I’m so glad.” 

Victor chuckled, low. “Oh, Yuuri. Just continue being who you are. That’s enough.” He was smiling again. “And if people don’t understand how much you mean to me, well. That can be fixed.” 

Yuuri gave him a suspicious look; that particular smile usually meant trouble. “What does that mean?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Victor said airily, then laughed. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Okay.” Yuuri smiled back. _God,_ how he wanted to reach out and pull Victor into his arms, to assure them both that everything was and would be fine. “I wish I could touch you,” he murmured, without thinking. 

Victor raised one eyebrow at him. “Oh?” he said, looking hopeful and just a bit sly.

“No no no, not like that…” Yuuri said, automatically, then paused. They were _engaged_ , for heaven’s sake. At this point, denial was just silly. “...actually, yes. Like that,” he admitted, squaring his shoulders and giving Victor a look he hoped was appealing.

Victor’s eyes widened a bit, and he chuckled softly. “My Yuuri is getting braver.”

It was significantly easier to be brave when Victor wasn’t actually present, but he wasn’t going to tell Victor that. “I guess I am,” he said quietly. Victor’s cheeks were a little flushed now, and the look on his face… “Stop looking like that.” Yuuri gave his fiancé a mock scowl.

“Looking like what?” Victor said cheerfully, his smile broadening. 

Yuuri made a frustrated noise. “Like... “ _Like you’re two seconds from grabbing me and kissing me breathless,_ he didn’t say, but the thought made his cheeks warm in response, among other things. He was abruptly aware of how long it had been since they’d been intimate with each other; sex, once he’d figured it out, was something he’d added to the list of things he wasn’t allowed to indulge in pre-competition, like rich food and alcohol. They’d made out several times after his part of the Grand Prix Final had concluded, but the barrage of press obligations and sheer exhaustion had put a damper on much more than that. 

He was _also_ abruptly aware that Victor was staring at him with an expression best described as hungry, and that made every inch of his body start begging to be touched. 

“Stop,” Yuuri complained, squirming a bit. “There’s not - you’re not _here_.”

“I know,” Victor said with a regretful sigh. “But there are ways around that, Yuuri. Not perfect, but sufficient in a pinch.” 

Yuuri took a moment to digest the implications; when he looked back up, Victor was watching him, lips slightly parted as if in anticipation. Yuuri shivered. “A-are you in bed?” he managed, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“I am, actually. Convenient.” Victor’s smile took on an indolent quality that sent Yuuri scrambling to the bed as well; Makkachin grumbled disapproval and stretched out over where Yuuri had been sitting, much to Yuuri’s relief. He didn’t need the dog trying to snuggle up to him while they did… whatever was going to happen.

He also had no idea what to do now. “U-um. Now what?” Yuuri asked, staring at Victor as he sat down on the bed, embarrassment warring with desire. He knew what he’d do if he were alone, but Victor’s involvement confused things in several different ways. 

“Usually, you pretend that your lover is present, and that their hands are on you instead of your own,” Victor said, and Yuuri’s breath hissed out between his teeth. He could feel himself going crimson, because he’d absolutely imagined Victor touching him before, but it had always been nothing more than an embarrassing fantasy about his idol. He’d stopped even thinking about it as soon as Victor had shown up in Hasetsu, finding that Victor’s real-world proximity made the embarrassment far too acute to get past. 

But they weren’t strangers any more, and Victor was telling him to… 

A low chuckle shook him out of his reverie, and he looked up at see Victor looking at him, his expression fond and somehow knowing. “Right, like that,” he said, and the angle shifted as Victor turned. There was a sharp _clack_ as Victor set the phone down, leaning it against something so it would stay upright without Victor having to hold it. 

Yuuri quickly followed suit, pushing the tissue box on the nightstand over so his own phone could stay steadily pointed in his direction. “Can you see me?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Yes.” The screen now showed a landscape view of Victor’s bed, though any details other than rumpled white sheets and pillows were obscured by the otherwise darkened room. Not that Yuuri cared about that, not with Victor perched on the edge of his bed, unzipping his team jacket with a bright smile, very obviously enjoying this. Once the jacket was off, revealing a short-sleeved t-shirt underneath, Victor flung it away and swung his legs up onto the bed. “Hmmm… let’s see. What do I want you to do…” Victor murmured, and Yuuri unconsciously leaned forward to stare at the screen more closely, spellbound.

Slowly, Victor began to touch himself, trailing his fingers down his chest and abdomen, creeping downward with an aching slowness. Every movement was… not practiced, no, but infused with the same grace Victor naturally brought to the ice, except this performance was just for Yuuri. Yuuri’s mouth opened slightly, a shiver racing down his spine at the idea of Victor touching him like that. Victor _had_ touched him, of course, but Yuuri had always felt so overwhelmed by sensation that he’d never really _watched_ , not like this. 

Victor gave Yuuri a sidelong grin and cupped himself through his track pants. Yuuri gasped as his own body responded enthusiastically to the sight, a wave of warmth and desire sweeping through him. “Good,” Victor murmured, rolling his hips up into his hand.

Yuuri quickly crawled up onto the bed properly, curling and laying down on one side so he could still see the phone screen. Victor’s eyes were closed now, his breathing matched to the movement of his hips. “Mmm, Yuuri… what do you want? Tell me.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. “I want… I want to see,” he managed, and Victor immediately complied, lifting his hips off the bed and roughly tugging his track pants and underwear down. The waistband caught on the growing bulge of his cock, and Victor freed himself with a quick movement, an involuntary groan escaping him. Yuuri let out a little whine and rolled his own hips forward, fumbling into his sweatpants to take himself in hand.

Victor turned his head just slightly, glancing at Yuuri through the fall of his bangs, deliberately holding the pose - his hips raised, his half-hard cock in perfect silhouette, the tangle of his track pants and underwear sliding towards his knees. “ _Victor,_ ” Yuuri spluttered, his own cock rapidly hardening under his fingers.

Victor chuckled, low, and settled back on the bed. “Now what?” he said, reaching for his cock but not quite touching, though Yuuri could see his fingers trembling with the need for it. 

Yuuri was finding it very difficult to form a sentence, especially in English. Victor’s languorous teasing, coupled with the movements of Yuuri’s own hand, was very nicely obliterating coherent thought. 

“Yuuri!” 

Yuuri shuddered at the edge of desperation in his tone. _God,_ Victor saying his name that way- “Keep going,” he managed. “Not… not too fast. Make it last.” 

“Ah, you’re cruel,” Victor breathed, but obeyed, stroking just the tips of his fingers over his length. His smile unraveled into an expression of pure need as he coaxed his cock fully erect, so slowly, every sweep of his hands prompting Yuuri to shudder right along with him. They _had_ to do this again, in person, so Yuuri could be the one to tease...

Yuuri bit back a groan at the thought. He was fully hard now too, and he worked his sweatpants and boxers down, shifting so that he could touch himself with both hands. “Faster, go faster,” he gasped, because he had to watch Victor come before his own need washed away everything else. “Victor, _please-_ ” 

Victor made an incoherent noise and began working his cock in earnest, trembling in every limb at the sudden intensity of it. “Yuuri,” he moaned, his hips rocking upwards in a series of rhythmic thrusts. “Yuuri, I can’t… when you’re here, right here, in my bed…” His words trailed off into a tangle of Russian, and then Victor was coming, his head thrown back, mouth open, and Yuuri had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. 

Victor fell back against the bed, utterly boneless; he lay there for a moment, breathing hard, before a slow smile spread across his face. “Mmmm, Yuuri,” he murmured, lazy and satiated. He turned his head to one side, facing the camera directly now. “Was that good?”

“ _Hai,_ ” Yuuri managed, his fingers tightening convulsively around his own erection. 

Victor chuckled. “Go on, my Yuuri. Show me what you want me to do to you after the Nationals.”  
Yuuri let out a long hissing breath and closed his eyes, imagining it without shame for the first time in his life: Victor touching him, those graceful hands caressing Yuuri’s skin, lingering at his hipbones, teasing at his nipples, then moving down… the fantasy was old, but now it was informed by first-hand experience. The way Victor’s cheeks flushed with pleasure, the warm pressure of his hands, the way his bright smile dissolved into desperation, the way Yuuri’s name felt on his lips-

Yuuri came with a strangled cry, thrusting helplessly into his hands, and for once he let Victor’s name escape in a barely-coherent moan. He was rewarded by Victor’s soft, warm laughter, thoroughly approving, and Yuuri went limp, releasing his cock and cracking his eyes open just enough to see Victor’s face on the phone screen. 

“I’ll have to remember that,” Victor said, grinning at him. 

Yuuri let out a long breath, then smiled back, content. “You’d better. I expect an encore performance when you get back.”

“Ah, so bold! Can you hold onto that until then? I want to see you like this in person, too,” Victor said. 

Yuuri flushed, just a little. “Okay,” he agreed, and pushed himself up slowly, reaching for the tissue box to clean up. Somehow, this had felt more intimate than their previous encounters despite the physical distance between them. Right now, Victor felt very close indeed, as if all Yuuri would have to do was lean back to find his fiancé there, ready to hold him as they drifted together. The warm, boneless feeling pooled around him, reminding him of how late it was, and how tired he was, and he yawned hugely. “Mmf… sorry, Victor, I’m so tired…” 

“As you should be,” Victor replied, his tone gentle. “Don’t worry, Yuuri. Get some rest so you’ll be ready for tomorrow. We both have a lot to do.”

Yuuri made a face. “I don’t want to hang up,” he mumbled, tugging his sweatpants and boxers back up before wrapping the blanket around himself. 

“Then don’t,” Victor said, simply. “We can leave it on all night if you want.” 

“Oh. Yes, please,” Yuuri sighed, relieved. “But what about in the morning?”

“Blow me a kiss before you go,” Victor replied, giving Yuuri a soft smile. “And then I’ll see you at Ice Castle, all right?”

“Okay.” Yuuri clicked the bedside lamp off, then let his head fall back onto the pillow. The phone’s screen was a soft glow, reassuring, and he made a contented sound as he took off his glasses and rested them on the nightstand next to the phone. “ _Oyasumi_ , Victor,” he murmured.

“Good night, my Yuuri,” Victor said, and the tenderness in his voice wrapped around Yuuri as warmly and surely as the blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to yell about YoI with me, my tumblr is [chisotahn.tumblr.com](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com).


	6. Chapter 6

After that night, they settled into a comforting routine.

As usual, their days revolved around their practice sessions, but now they made sure to work in time for each other unrelated to the ice. Their late-night conversations didn’t ban skating discussion, of course, but it wasn’t anywhere near as focused on as during their coaching sessions. The schedule was a little lighter on sleep than Yuuri usually preferred, but talking to Victor was more than worth it.

The practice was good, too. Yuuko grew more adept at her camera work, and Minako was only too happy to offer her support as well, listening to Victor’s thoughts and helping Yuuri put them into practice even after Victor had to go.

The hours no longer felt like they were crawling by; instead, they flew.

Through it all, Yuuri continued to wrestle with thoughts of the Japanese Nationals. It was so much easier to focus on Russian Nationals instead - after all, that was Victor’s comeback, and thus infinitely more interesting. And every time Yuuri thought too much about his own upcoming competition, tension started creeping up on him again, memories of last year’s Nationals hounding him unpleasantly. Better not to think about it; better to imagine Victor instead, and daydream about what would happen after they were reunited. 

It worked. For a while. 

The Russian Nationals started one day earlier, so Victor had to leave for Yekaterinburg a day before Yuuri’s own flight to Sapporo. His last coaching session was gruelling, with a thorough review of both Yuuri’s competition programs. And then it was time for fond smiles, well-wishes, praise and encouragement from Victor, and that was it. The rest was up to him. 

Not thinking about Nationals didn’t work so well after that. 

………………

“This way, Yuuri!” Minako called, waving one hand at him and pointing urgently at the taxi stand in front of the station. Yuuri pulled his coat more tightly around himself and dragged his suitcase forward, making a face as one foot skidded on the slushy sidewalk.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good on the ice?” Mari said, raising one eyebrow at him as he wrestled his suitcase into the trunk of the taxi.

“This is slush, not ice, and I’m not wearing skates,” Yuuri grumbled. Sapporo was _cold_ , and the fear of accidentally spraining an ankle had him walking slowly and carefully. Mari just blew out one last plume of smoke before planting her cigarette into the nearest ashtray and taking her seat in the taxi, leaving Yuuri to clamber in after her. Minako was already giving the driver the address to their hotel. 

“You’ve been here before, right?” Minako asked, settling back into her seat as the taxi pulled out. 

“Once, yes, with Celestino,” Yuuri replied, shifting a bit to look out the window. That had been in 2012, and he’d been completely worn out after the long flight from America. The one thing he remembered from that time was his fascination at the Makomanai Ice Arena and the surrounding structures, all relics of the Olympics many years ago. He’d stepped out on the ice with a sense of awe, imagining everyone else who had skated there and wondering if he, too, might someday skate on true Olympic ice. Just like Victor, who’d had two Olympic gold medals to his name then…

Victor had won many medals. So many successes. And Victor thought Yuuri could _surpass_ him? After how much he’d failed at this same competition last year? Anxiety continued to gnaw at him, as it had all day and a fair bit of the night before. Despite his best attempts, he hadn’t managed to push it away entirely, and the effort required to hold it back was becoming more and more exhausting. Even the reminder that, technically, Yuuri had _already_ surpassed Victor by breaking his free skate world record held little solace. In his current state, Yuuri was more than capable of believing that to have been a lucky fluke.

Something poked him in the arm, and he flinched and looked up at Mari. “Stop it with the tapping, you’re driving me nuts.” She pointedly flicked one finger into Yuuri’s knee, and he realized that he’d been fidgeting again. “Don’t overthink things. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not,” he protested, though he could tell by her expression that she knew he was lying. His thumb automatically went to his gloved right hand, stroking over the ring beneath the fabric for what comfort it could provide.

Yuuri stayed mostly quiet for the remainder of the taxi ride, while Minako made small talk over the prospects of the other competitors. Truthfully, Yuuri didn’t remember much about the skaters from last year, except for those who had also been at his qualifiers earlier this season. His failure had nicely obliterated any other specifics. Minako, of course, was fully confident that Yuuri would more than dominate the competition, which only increased the shaky feeling inside of him. 

There was a small cluster of reporters at the hotel when they arrived, though they were busy with a tall woman that Yuuri thought was one of the ladies’ single skaters. Yuuri gratefully slipped past them and threaded his way through the busy lobby to the reception desk; that was one thing that was definitely easier _without_ Victor. He checked himself in with no problems, got his key, and was ready to make his escape when someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to one side. 

“Don’t run off quite yet,” Minako said, slapping him on the back before stepping up to the reception desk herself. “This is your first domestic competition in months! You should say hi to everyone!”

“Oh - there’s Minami-kun,” Mari added, tugging on Yuuri’s arm. “Minami-kun! Hello!”

“Mari-san!” came a familiar voice, bright and eager. “I didn’t know you’d be here- oh!” The words stopped with a delighted squeak.

“Good to see you again, Minami-kun,” Mari said, grinning. “Yuuri, you remember Minami-kun, don’t you? He came to Hasetsu for the Grand Prix Final and cheered you on alongside us.” 

Minami looked much as Yuuri remembered him from the qualifiers, all eagerness, practically trembling with excitement. “G-good afternoon, Yuuri-kun!”

“Ah- hello, Minami-kun,” Yuuri said quickly, trying to pull himself out of his haze at least long enough to interact like a normal human being. “Thank you for supporting me.”

“You were _amazing_ , Yuuri-kun,” Minami gushed. “That quadruple flip, and your free skate was _perfect_ and your exhibition skate and-” He stopped for a moment, as if utterly overwhelmed by the memories. “It was the best thing ever!”

“Thank you,” Yuuri repeated, giving Minami a quick bow. “I’m hoping to perform well here also.”

“Me too! I’m much better with the triple axel than I was last time,” Minami said, bouncing a little on his heels. “And I get to see your programs in person again!”

“ _There_ you are, Minami,” came a new voice, and Yuuri turned to see Minami’s coach approaching them, two keycards in her hand. “Oh, hello, Katsuki-san.”

“Hello again,” Yuuri murmured.

“We should go get settled, if you’re ready,” Minami’s coach continued, much to Yuuri’s relief. “Where’s your other bag, Minami?”

“My other bag? Oh, it’s over here- no, wait just a minute!” Minami turned to meet Yuuri’s gaze directly, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Bye, Mari-san! And Yuuri-kun, I’m going to skate my very best this time, so please watch me!”

WIth that, Minami turned on one heel and darted away, quite clearly a man on a mission. His coach nodded to Yuuri again before following in her skater’s wake, leaving a bemused Yuuri behind.

“He’s such a big fan of yours. It’s so cute,” Minako said, coming up behind him. “It sounds like there’s going to be a group of skaters and coaches going out to dinner tonight, too. Do you want to go?” she added, hopefully.

“Actually, I’m feeling pretty tired,” Yuuri said, tightening his grip on his suitcase. “I’m going to go up to my room, I think. Maybe take a nap.” 

“Ah, well,” Minako sighed, but she put one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “At least have dinner with the two of us later, okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I guess,” Yuuri replied, giving her a weak smile before turning and heading for the elevators at last. He couldn’t get out of the lobby fast enough. 

………………

The hotel room was supposed to be better, in theory. In practice, it was worse.

Without other people around, Yuuri had no distractions, no defenses from his own fears. Whenever he wasn’t pointedly thinking about something else, his thoughts returned unerringly to a worst-hits replay of last year’s Nationals, every tumble, under-rotated jump, and graceless gesture. He’d _never_ done so badly in competition before.

_Or since_ , Yuuri reminded himself firmly, then sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, letting himself droop. _The_ bed, just one, and the quiet room ached in a way that even Victor’s room at Hasetsu hadn’t. He was already so tired and the competition hadn’t even started, and he wouldn’t have Victor here for comfort or anything else. Minako and Mari weren’t far, of course, but he hadn’t broken in front of either of them for years. The thought of repeating the performance now filled him with shame.

Yuuri flopped backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as he tried to regain some sense of perspective. Everything felt raw, his every thought ripe fodder for a fresh wave of pointed internal criticism. He couldn’t even take solace in Minami’s excitement. God, he was going to disappoint them _all_ , wasn’t he?

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. Maybe it would be good for him to go to pieces right now, let everything out in hopes of regaining some equilibrium. But if he couldn’t pick himself up again afterwards…

Yuuri made a pained noise and fumbled his phone out of his pocket. There wasn’t any guarantee that he’d be able to reach Victor, but he had to at least try. If not, falling to pieces could be his plan B. He connected to the hotel wi-fi, then logged on, praying that Victor would be online and he wouldn’t have to rely on a standard phone call or worse, texting.

The online indicator next to Victor’s name was green. Thank god. Yuuri initiated the video call with a quick tap, clutching the phone tightly as it rang. Once, twice, three times-

“Yuuri!” 

Victor’s bright, cheerful greeting brought a lump to Yuuri’s throat. A moment later, his fiancé was centered in the frame, his expression shifting to one of concern as he got a good look at Yuuri. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I… “ God, he felt like the worst sort of idiot. “I don’t know?” 

“I see,” Victor murmured. “Nervous about the Nationals?” Yuuri nodded. “Would talking about it help?” 

The look in Victor’s eyes was so earnest that Yuuri just stared back for a moment, remembering their conversation the morning after the Grand Prix Final had ended. _I want to learn this. I want to take care of you properly._

For all that his traitorous thoughts were screaming at him to pretend, to push Victor away… he couldn’t do it. Not with Victor’s affection for Yuuri so clear, his gaze unwavering even as the silence stretched between them. Yuuri let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he said, glancing away from the screen. “I just did so badly last year. I can’t stop thinking about it, and I know it’s ridiculous, I know so much has happened between now and then, but…”

“What are you afraid of?” Victor asked, quietly, and Yuuri looked up to meet his eyes again. “You know that you aren’t going to lose me no matter what happens, don’t you?”

“I… I know, and… knowing that should make everything better, right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” Yuuri said, feeling wretched, like every word was a betrayal. 

But Victor just shook his head. “ _Supposed to_ doesn’t matter. I love you - you know this, just as I know you love me in return. It doesn’t mean that all of our problems will vanish. In fact, it actually created _new_ problems,” he added, wryly, and Yuuri smiled, just for a moment. “What was it you said at the Cup of China?”

“Have more faith than I do that I’ll win,” Yuuri whispered, remembering the moment vividly - the echo of the crowd above them, the look on Victor’s face. 

“I can carry that faith for you when it’s too hard for you to bear,” Victor said. “Yes, you performed poorly at this event last year. One might call it a catastrophic failure… but you got back up. With my help, yes, but you would never have made it this far if your heart wasn’t in it too. You aren’t a puppet dancing to your coach’s directions, you know.” Victor’s smile was soft and fond. “You’ve known that level of failure, and you survived it. You _won._ ”

Yuuri breathed in slowly. “I won,” he echoed.

“You won. Decisively,” Victor affirmed.

Yuuri exhaled, low, and something inside loosened a little. “I-I’m the best male singles skater in Japan,” he said, trying to remind himself, to let the label sink in and buoy him. 

Victor chuckled. “My Yuuri, you are the second best male singles skater in the _world_ , at least as far as the Grand Prix Final is concerned. And _I’m_ the one who has to worry about Yurio at Nationals.” 

Yuuri smiled in spite of himself. “That’s true.” He let out another sigh, feeling more of the tension bleed away; not gone, but much more easily mastered. “Thank you, Victor…” 

“I only wish I could hold you close,” Victor said wistfully. “That would help too, wouldn’t it?”

“It would, but this is also good.” Yuuri’s smile softened. “You are learning, Victor. Thank you so much.” 

“Ah, good,” Victor brightened. “Success! Nikiforov climbs in the rankings!” He put on his best preening expression, and Yuuri laughed. It definitely was a far cry from Victor’s awkward attempts at the Cup of China. The depth of that caring and willingness to learn steadied Yuuri further, and he rolled his shoulders back to clear the tension that had gathered there.

“Speaking of rankings,” Yuuri said, “are you ready for _your_ Nationals? Like you said, you have to worry about Yurio.”

“We’ll find out soon,” Victor said, airily. “But I feel ready, and that’s half of the battle right there.”

Yuuri shook his head in amazement. “Well, if anyone can do it…”

“That’s the good thing about attempting the impossible,” Victor said, putting a finger to his lips. “When you fail, it’s _because_ it was impossible, not because of anything you did or didn’t do. And if you succeed…” 

“You won’t fail,” Yuuri said quickly. That thought worried him too. He couldn’t bear to witness Victor’s fall from grace, especially if it could in any way be attributed to his decision to coach Yuuri. 

“Oh, I don’t think I will. All I want to do this season is show the world the kind of skating I like best. Everything else is just details. Points, placing, medals… especially medals, I have more than enough of those,” Victor added, frowning slightly. 

Yuuri snorted, amused. “But _I_ need a gold one?” 

“I have enough medals,” Victor replied archly. “You don’t. You need dozens. Hundreds. Thousands.” 

“I don’t think I’ll live long enough for thousands.” Yuuri grinned. “What are you doing for costumes?” Victor just raised one eyebrow at him, keeping his mouth stubbornly closed until Yuuri had to laugh. “Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.”

“You’ll find out soon enough. The short programs are tomorrow,” Victor said, looking thoughtful. “At around two, my time, which is… six, for you? Yekaterinburg is closer to Japan than St. Petersburg. Four hours difference now, I think?”

Yuuri nodded. “No problem, since tomorrow is all practice sessions. I can watch the livestream.”

“Good! And what about the free skate?” Victor gave Yuuri a hopeful look, though there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone that Yuuri couldn’t quite decipher. “I know the 25th is a busy day for both of us.” 

“Um…” Yuuri quickly switched to his browser, pulling up the schedule for the Japanese Nationals. “The short programs start at five-thirty in the evening, my time... and they end around nine.” Yuuri flipped to the schedule of the Russian Nationals. “And your free skate starts around nine my time, too… but they only overlap by about fifteen minutes.” 

“Ah, good! I’ll be sure not to be in last place after the short program, then,” Victor said, relieved. Yuuri switched back to the video chat. “Do your best not to draw the last slot for your short program, okay?”

“I have a very good record of picking the first slot,” Yuuri said wryly. “I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“Good! Be sure to watch it, Yuuri.” Victor’s expression grew more solemn, though his eyes were bright with mischief. “I mean it. I want to know you’re watching.”

“I won’t miss it,” Yuuri promised. “I’ll go hide in the bathroom if I have to.” 

Victor laughed. “Ah, romance.”

Yuuri made a face at him. “Do you want me to watch your free skate or don’t you?” 

“I do, I do! The bathroom will be fine,” Victor conceded, grinning broadly. “And I’ll be sure to watch your programs too. Yakov will just have to give me five minutes to watch. I’ll tell him I need it to fuel my own routine.”

“Will that work?” Yuuri blinked at him. He still couldn’t get a read on Yakov.

“No,” Victor said cheerfully. “He’ll yell, but I’ll watch you _while_ he yells, making me the winner.”

“Uh… whatever works for you, I guess,” Yuuri said, bemused. 

“And then after that…” Victor’s smile went soft and sweet. “I’ll come home.”

_Home._ Yuuri’s heart fluttered. “Isn’t that technically St. Petersburg now?”

“Details,” Victor said, waving one hand as if dismissing such petty concerns. “We can debate semantics after the Nationals. Are you going to spend most of the day practicing tomorrow?”

“Yes. Minako-sensei is going to come with me - not as my coach, just helping.” 

“You did bring small Makkachin, didn’t you? I’d rather you didn’t flirt with just anyone during your short program. I insist on my approved representative.” 

Yuuri grinned. “It’s in my bag.”

“Good, good.” Victor stretched, skewing the video off to one side. “As for me, I have some press obligations to take care of this evening. I’m not sure how long it will take. You may be asleep by the time I return… actually, no, you had _better_ be asleep. Listen to your coach.”

“I suppose,” Yuuri said, in a mock disinterested tone, then laughed at the expression on Victor’s face. “I will, I will. Don’t worry.” 

“Then I will talk to you tomorrow, my Yuuri,” Victor replied, satisfied. “And don’t forget about my short program!”

“I won’t,” Yuuri promised. “Good luck, Victor.”

“You too. Be well,” Victor said, raising his right hand into the frame and gently brushing a kiss across his ring. Yuuri’s cheeks warmed, and he followed suit, meeting Victor’s gaze with his own as he did so. “Oh, my Yuuri, I can’t wait to come back to you,” Victor murmured. 

“I love you too,” Yuuri breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Makomanai Ice Arena in Sapporo and its Olympic history are very real, and it really was the site of the 2012 Japanese Nationals. Also, I couldn't really jam it into the fic without it feeling out of place, but Yuuri and company flew from Fukuoka to Sapporo's New Chitose Airport and then took the train from there. 
> 
> The thing about Victor's Olympic gold medals is pure fanon based on a shot of him with a gold medal greatly resembling the distinctive medal designs from the 2006 Turin games. So, what the hell, may as well give him a 2010 Vancouver gold as well... and by this time in the fic, he probably also has a 2014 Sochi gold. Victor Nikiforov, everyone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Focus!_

One rotation, two, three, and Yuuri landed perfectly on one skate before gathering his strength again, launching himself into the second jump of the combination. He landed that one, too, and went into the final spin with a smile, in time to the music only he could hear.

As he swept his arms upward into the final pose, a small amount of applause rose around him. Yuuri blinked and refocused on his surroundings, letting the music and the story of the love-crazed couple fade from his mind. Several of the other skaters had been watching, it seemed. Yuuri gave them a little wave of acknowledgement, then turned and skated towards the barrier.

He’d woken that morning with a clear head, and keeping Victor’s words at the forefront of his mind was helping him hold on to that clarity. _I survived. I already won,_ he repeated, moving into an abbreviated version of _Eros’_ step sequence before gliding the rest of the way to the barrier. 

Minami was at the rink entrance, slipping off his skate guards; he lit up when he saw Yuuri. “Yuuri-kun! Good morning!”

“Good morning,” Yuuri said, reaching for the poodle tissue box and tugging a tissue free, feeling a little awkward. Should he say something? He should probably say something. Minami stepped out onto the ice. “Um, good luck today,” Yuuri added. 

Minami nearly tripped over his own skates, but he recovered well, straightening up to meet Yuuri’s gaze with a radiant smile on his face. “Thank you! You too!” he said, then skated out, turning towards his coach as he came to a stop.

Then he struck his first pose and began to skate.

Yuuri had missed this performance at the regional qualifiers. Curious, he watched Minami move through a spin, a triple axel that was slightly wobbly but otherwise well executed, and a step sequence more refined and graceful than what Yuuri had seen in his free skate months ago. Minami’s short program was to _Lohengrin_ , Yuuri remembered; the familiar music came to mind easily, and he matched it up to Minami’s movements.

Victor often said that Yuuri made music with his body while he skated. Minami wasn’t there yet, but Yuuri could see the potential for it. The choreography wasn’t the same as Yuuri’s, of course, but that made it more fun to watch - he’d anticipate one movement, remembering his own performance, and Minami would surprise him by doing something different yet still appropriate to the piece.

And then Minami caught an edge and tumbled to the ice, making Yuuri wince. Minami pushed himself up slowly, glancing first towards his coach, and then towards Yuuri, much to Yuuri’s surprise. Seeing that Yuuri had been watching him, Minami beamed and got back up on his feet, skating back to his starting position and resuming his practice as if nothing had happened.

 _He looks at me like how I looked at Victor when I was younger,_ Yuuri realized with a start. What would it have meant to him to have had any form of personal attention from his idol at that age? He remembered how awful it had felt at his first Grand Prix Final, the shame at finally being on the same ice as Victor and performing so abysmally. 

Minami just got back up and kept going.

 _He’s strong,_ Yuuri thought. _And he looks up to me…_ He’d known, abstractly, that others admired him, but his own conviction that he wasn’t worthy of that admiration kept everything at arm's length. Minako had definitely had something to say about that, as had Victor.

 _How can someone who can’t motivate others motivate himself?_ And much more recently, much more fondly, _my Yuuri, you are the second best male singles skater in the_ world. 

Maybe it was time to start letting go of that particular insecurity. For the sake of those who looked up to him, if nothing else. 

Yuuri took a deep breath as Minami turned and skated back towards his coach, who was stationed a bit further down the barrier. “Minami-kun,” he called out, and was rewarded by the younger man coming to an abrupt stop, the ice scraping under his skates. “It’s _Lohengrin_ , right? Your short program?”

Minami’s eyes widened. “Yes! You didn’t forget - I was inspired by your performance!” 

Yuuri smiled. “I’m going to watch it this time, okay? No matter what happens, I’ll be cheering for you.” 

Minami stared at him, apparently overcome by emotion. “Yuuri-kun… thank you!” he blurted out after a moment, and Yuuri could swear there were tears in his eyes. Minami bowed to him sharply, then turned and skated right back out towards center ice, his coach calling after him in confusion. 

A soft chuckle drew his attention, and Yuuri turned to see Minako leaning on the barrier behind him, an approving smile on her face. “Looks like Victor’s rubbing off on you.” 

“Maybe… but it’s more than that,” Yuuri said, watching as Minami threw himself into another rendition of his short program. “He reminds me of how I used to be.”

Minako’s tone turned sly. “I bet he has posters of you all over his room.”

“...What?” Yuuri felt himself turning pink. “No, he doesn’t!” 

She laughed. “I’m glad, though,” she said. “You realize Minami-kun couldn’t have cared less about Victor being at the regional qualifiers? What he cared about was you, Yuuri.”

“I… huh.” He hadn’t thought about it that way before. “It feels like a lot of responsibility, people looking to you like that…”

“I’m sure your _fiancé_ can give you some tips,” Minako said, stressing the word impishly. “But you’re doing just fine, Yuuri.” Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back at her, warmed by her reassurance. “Now, you get going, too - I didn’t like the look of your free leg on that last pass. Come on!” She held up the poodle tissue box and waggled it in Yuuri’s direction.

Yuuri grinned and obeyed. 

………………………

The evening before a competition was always a little strange. Everyone was under pressure, and most of the skaters and coaches were staying in the same hotel, creating a hotbed of gossip, emotions, and the occasional ill-advised dalliance. In the past, Yuuri had kept away from such things, preferring to retreat unnoticed unless someone he knew was there as well. Or, at least, that was what he’d done until Victor had started dragging him along.

This time, though, Yuuri felt a little more bold despite Victor’s absence. At practice, he’d talked to a few others besides Minami. It wasn’t easy, especially since his instincts had tended towards avoidance for so long. But he tried, and was rewarded with short conversations, expressions of admiration, even autograph requests. All things he’d been afraid of; all things he would have done anything to have gotten from Victor when he was younger. It was tiring, but it was also strangely reassuring.

As a result, Yuuri received his first invitation to a pre-competition social event in years. It wasn’t that people didn’t want to include him - he’d just always said no, so consistently that people had stopped asking. But Minami had mentioned that one of the ice dancers was going to show the livestream of the Russian Nationals in the largest of the hotel’s conference rooms, with all the skaters and coaches invited to watch.

This time, Yuuri said yes.

 

The hallway leading to the conference room was filled with happy chatter about the Russian field and about the Japanese competition the next day. Minako was nearly beside herself with excitement. “Ahhh, there’s Inoue-chan - she’s so _graceful_ , even here,” she sighed, then elbowed Yuuri. “Yuuri, why don’t you and Victor do pairs skating professionally? You could be just as good as Inoue-chan and Nakahara-kun... ” 

“What country would we represent?” Yuuri replied, bemused, then paused. A familiar voice rose above the surrounding conversations, and a moment later Yuuri spotted Morooka and his news crew, set up with a camera outside the door to the conference room. They were interviewing a petite woman that Yuuri thought was Suzuki-san, the ice dancer who’d set up the event, but as Yuuri watched, Morooka turned and caught sight of him.

“Ah! Katsuki-kun!” The newscaster waved urgently at him. “Can we get a statement regarding tonight’s competition?” 

“Um... “ Yuuri glanced at Minako, who gave him a small shove in Morooka’s direction. “Sure. Save me a seat, Minako-sensei?” 

“Right in the front row,” Minako promised, and the determined glint in her eyes didn’t bode well for anyone who might get in her way. She forged ahead, and Yuuri walked over to join Morooka and his crew, reaching up to smooth his hair a little bit. 

“We’re in Sapporo on the eve of the Japanese National Figure Skating Competition,” Morooka said, beckoning Yuuri to step into view of the camera. “Everyone’s fired up and ready to start skating tomorrow, including top men’s singles skater Katsuki Yuuri, silver medalist at the Grand Prix Final and current world record holder in the men’s free skate event!” 

Yuuri gave the camera a small wave.

“In just a short time, Victor Nikiforov will be taking the ice in the Russian Nationals, his first competition since taking a break to coach you in the Grand Prix Series,” Morooka continued. “You’ll be skating here without your coach. How have you two managed to coordinate this demanding schedule?” 

“I… well, we did our best,” Yuuri said. “I know my programs very well by now, so we mostly did coaching sessions over video chat, with help from some friends.”

“Was Victor planning any choreography for his programs prior to the Grand Prix Final?”

Yuuri shook his head. “We were completely focused on my performance.”

Morooka let out a low whistle. “So Victor Nikiforov had only ten days to make his programs competition-ready. Most people would call that impossible!”

“Well, Victor’s good at doing the impossible,” Yuuri said, trying to sound as confident as he could. “If we need to change our plans, we’ll talk about that together and figure out what we want to do. I’m just focusing on my own programs for now.”

“Good, good! Best of luck tomorrow, Katsuki-kun,” Morooka said brightly, then turned to flag down another skater who was going past. “Ah, Ueda-kun! How are you feeling about the competition?” Yuuri carefully took the opportunity to slip into the conference room.

Minako had secured front-row seats for both of them, as promised, and she gave Yuuri a smug smile as he sat down next to her. “What kind of questions did they ask?”

“Mostly about Victor,” Yuuri replied, digging his phone out of his pocket. No messages, though that was hardly surprising. It was entirely possible that Victor had put his phone away and wouldn’t have it back until after the short programs had ended. Still…

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 17:27]** There’s a viewing room set up here. I have a front row seat.

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 17:27]** I’ll be watching.

He was fully expecting to hear nothing back, so when his phone buzzed in his hands a few minutes later he nearly dropped it in surprise. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 17:31]** ｡^‿^｡ I’m so glad, Yuuri~ 

**[Victor Nikiforov 17:31]** I can’t wait for you to see me (*≧▽≦) 

**[Victor Nikiforov 17:32]** I’m skating fourth 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜 Yurio is sixth~

 **[Victor Nikiforov 17:32]** Send me a kiss for luck???? (☆´3｀)

Yuuri briefly regretted having taught Victor about Japanese emoji. 

**[Yuuri Katsuki 17:33]** *chu* good luck!

 **[Victor Nikiforov 17:34]** (´♡`) ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

 **[Victor Nikiforov 17:34]** I’m off! ♥

Yuuri grinned at his phone before locking the screen and tucking it away again. When he looked up, Minako was giving him that too-knowing look of hers. “Victor?”

“Yeah. He says he’s skating fourth and Yurio is going sixth.” A small wave of excitement washed over Yuuri. How long had it been since he’d last watched Victor skate live in a competition? Since last year’s Grand Prix Final, at least. For as long as he could remember, he’d been excited to watch every performance possible, with each new program being an extra-special treat. True, there was nervousness now too, worry that Victor might have finally set a goal impossible even for him, but the sense of anticipation was far older and far stronger.

“Got it!” someone said loudly, and a moment later the projector lit up with the livestream.

The stream was from a subscription service, with live commentary in English, and Yuuri leaned forward as the commentators chatted about the upcoming short programs. They mostly talked about Victor, though they also discussed Yurio’s prospects and his recent victory at the Grand Prix Final, much to Yuuri’s relief. The last thing Yuuri needed was to move to Russia just in time to feel the wrath of an overshadowed Yuri Plisetsky. And Yurio deserved a great deal of praise and attention for what he’d achieved. He was going to be _amazing_. Better than Victor, possibly. 

Though whether he’d be better than Victor _today_ remained to be seen.

The short programs began. The first skater fumbled one of his jumps and took a hard fall, making the entire room wince audibly. Georgi was second, his performance feeling both less passionate and more balanced than at the Cup of China. As the third short program came to an end, Yuuri folded his hands in his lap, his thumb stroking over his ring. 

And then the entire Russian rink roared Victor’s name, and Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

The commentators were just barely audible over the din, saying things like _returning after taking a hiatus during the Grand Prix Series_ and _continuing to coach Japanese skater Yuuri Katsuki_ , but Yuuri barely heard them. He was focused completely on Victor, who had stepped up to the rink entrance, his signature golden skate blades gleaming in the light. 

Victor’s costume was beautiful, white with iridescent sequins, as if he’d wrapped himself up in a shifting rainbow. As he skated out onto the ice, the crowd’s fervor increased, and Victor stood for a moment at center ice before raising one hand in acknowledgement. Instantly, the crowd fell silent, watching. Waiting.

The music began, the same piece Victor had played for Yuuri nine days ago, and Victor began to skate.

Yuuri had felt the brightness in the music before, and now Victor matched that with his choreography, his movements swift, graceful, and infused with joy. “This is very different from what we usually see out of Nikiforov,” one of the commentators said. “In the past, he’s tended towards pieces with more gravitas, more emotional intensity. This feels much more playful. And his first planned jump is his signature quadruple flip-”

Yuuri held his breath. 

“-and it’s clean,” the commentator crowed, and the audience erupted into applause. 

“Overall, this program is less technically demanding than what he’s done in the past, but that makes sense given the short amount of time he had to prepare,” the other commentator said as Victor went into his step sequence, his face turned up as if towards the sun, a smile on his face. “No one has ever attempted anything like this on such short notice, but as always… here comes a triple toe/double toe combination-”

More cheering and applause. “-Victor Nikiforov never ceases to amaze!” 

Yuuri watched, spellbound, until Victor drew himself out of a spin and into a lilting final pose, one hand reaching up towards the sky as if he were about to pluck something from midair. The crowd’s response was absolutely deafening, and Yuuri let out a sharp breath. His heart was pounding wildly. No errors. Overall it wasn’t as technically demanding as Victor’s usual, that was true, but still… 

Yuuri clenched his fists as he waited for the scores, watching Victor skate off the ice, navigating a veritable hail of flowers and plush toys. Yakov was waiting by the kiss and cry, looking as dour as ever, and the camera focused on the two of them as they sat down. Someone had tossed down a bouquet of red roses, and Victor was happily waving them at the crowd.

“And the scores are-” 

Yuuri nodded to himself as the crowd went wild. “Victor Nikiforov is now in first place! What an achievement! We’ll see if he can hold onto that - Yuri Plisetsky has yet to skate, and if he skates cleanly he won’t have a problem taking the lead based on the technical difficulty of his program. But this performance assures the world that Victor Nikiforov isn’t done surprising us yet!” 

In the kiss and cry, Victor smiled at the camera and held up his hands, shaping a heart with his fingers. The light glinted off the gold ring on his right hand. 

Yuuri sat back in his seat, slightly shaky from emotion. He could feel others looking at him, but just now he didn’t care. He pulled out his phone again and started texting, holding the phone close to his chest so nobody else could see.

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 19:02]** you’re amazing, Victor.

 **[Yuuri Katsuki 19:02]** I’m still not sure how you did that, but you did. 

**[Yuuri Katsuki 19:03]** ♥

There was no immediate response this time, but that didn’t matter.

Victor Nikiforov was _back_. 

………………………

At the end of the short programs, Victor was in second place, with Yurio in first place and extremely proud of it, if his sharp-edged smirk in the kiss and cry was any indication. Yuuri said his goodbyes and made his way back up to his room, taking a shower before changing into his sweats and crawling into bed. He felt emotionally exhausted, but in a good way. 

There was absolutely no guarantee that Victor would call him that evening, but Yuuri logged in just the same and tucked his phone under his pillow before turning out the lights, praying that if Victor did try to call he would wake up. Sure enough, his phone buzzed violently at around midnight.

When Victor appeared on the screen, Yuuri just stared at him for a moment, drinking him in until Victor laughed. “What? Do I have something on my face?” 

“No, you don’t, I just…” Yuuri trailed off. How could he possibly pour what he’d been feeling into words? “You’re Victor Nikiforov?”

“Wow! Really?” Victor gasped dramatically. “At least you can still recognize me after our long separation.” 

Yuuri made a face at him. “That’s not what I meant. I meant… that’s the first time I’ve seen you skate like that and _known_ you, I guess? I’m so used to… um… watching you as your fan,” he added, mumbling the words a little. “So to watch you like that and realize that you’re… _you_ …”

Victor chuckled gently. “I think I understand,” he assured Yuuri, resting his chin in his free hand. “Did you like the program? What did you think?“

Yuuri smiled. “It was _wonderful_ , Victor. I can hardly believe it even though I saw it.” Every gushing thought he’d had about Victor back when Victor had been his distant idol was flooding back - _gorgeous, graceful, stunning, ethereal_ , and his cheeks reddened a bit. It was one thing to think that, but to say it to Victor’s face? He felt sort of stuck between roles, between _fan_ and _fiancé_. “It was beautiful. You’re beautiful,” he said finally, almost whispering. 

Victor’s smile was all fondness. “Thank you, Yuuri. I’m glad. I don’t know what I would have done if it hadn’t been worth it. If I’d taken myself from your side only to fail…”

“You wouldn’t have failed,” Yuuri said quickly. “And you won’t fail tomorrow, either. Though aren’t you worried about beating Yurio? Can your free skate make up the point difference?” 

“I’m not concerned with beating Yurio, no,” Victor said, to Yuuri’s surprise. “No matter what happens, he already _has_ beaten me by breaking my world record, and he has many, many years of skating ahead of him to keep doing that. Nothing I can do can stop that. And, truthfully, I don’t want him to stop. The sport always moves forward.” His expression turned wistful. “We all know we’ll be left behind some day.”

“Victor…”

“I’m _happy_ , Yuuri. I wasn’t expecting to ever do this again.”

Yuuri blinked. “You… you weren’t? I thought…” 

“When I said I wished you’d never retire, I meant it,” Victor said softly. “I was ready to let it all go for you. I was _going_ to let it all go.”

There was a lump in Yuuri’s throat. “You… you don’t have to do that…”

“Well, you’ll note I _didn’t_ do that.” Victor smiled wryly. “I realized I still had stories left to tell.”

“Was there a story today?” Yuuri asked.

Victor looked wounded. “You mean you didn’t feel it in your very bones? Maybe I should retire after all.” He chuckled at the expression on Yuuri’s face. “Though perhaps I’m being unfair. It was more a feeling than a story. It was happiness, Yuuri. It was joy. Before, I’d always been so focused on the next big thing, surprising my audience… I’d forgotten how good it feels to just be myself and _skate_.”

“... I love you,” Yuuri said after a moment, finding no other words that would suffice. 

“Ah, my Yuuri.” Victor’s smile was warm and bright. “I love you, too. And as for Yurio, I knew going in that my short program wouldn’t be able to beat his unless he made a serious mistake. The point isn’t to win, necessarily. It’s to show you the skating that I like best. Though I won’t say no to Euros or to Worlds,” he added, thoughtfully. 

“You’d better not. I want to skate against you,” Yuuri said, certainty welling within him. “Promise me you won’t go easy for my sake.”

“I wouldn’t insult you like that,” Victor said, simply. “Not killing myself in a reckless attempt to squash Yurio is one thing. Giving up is something else entirely. Don’t worry, Yuuri. I’m not taking this lightly.” His grin sharpened, eager. “Just be sure to watch my free skate tomorrow, okay? I’ll be second-to-last, so there shouldn't be any problems with the timing.” 

“I’ll watch it on my phone if I have to,” Yuuri promised. “I’ll blow up my data plan.” 

“Hm. I may have to get you a better data plan,” Victor mused. “For now, though, you need your rest. I refuse to cause a repeat of the Cup of China, even if I’m not there to _make_ you lay down.”

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri assured him. “I was napping before you called.”

“Go back to your rest then, sleeping beauty. Good luck tomorrow. I know you can do this, my Yuuri.”

“You too. _Davai_ ,” Yuuri said, and Victor smiled. 

“Good night.” 

After the call ended, Yuuri set his phone on the nightstand and stretched before settling back into the bed. He could still hear the music of Victor’s performance, somewhere in the back of his mind; he could still see the playful sweetness of Victor’s movements.

_It was happiness, Yuuri. It was joy._

Yuuri smiled to himself and let his eyes drift closed, contented beyond words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a row today! I wanted to put 6 & 7 together so we'd have a little more forward movement as opposed to pure introspection. 
> 
> Regarding Victor's short program: I am hardly an accomplished figure skating _anything_ , so you'll note I gently sidestepped the specifics of the choreography and also the score. I'd rather do that than accidentally put in incorrect or inaccurate information! Feel free to fill in the gaps with your imagination. His short program is called _Breath of Spring_ , by the way; the song is not based on anything specific. The other skaters briefly mentioned are also not anyone specific. 
> 
> If you want to yell about YoI with me, you can find me at [chisotahn.tumblr.com](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com). Thank you for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:43]** Are you awake yet?

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:45]** Awake and having breakfast! Syrniki!

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:46]** What’s syrniki?

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:46]** DELICIOUS (*^◇^)_旦

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:46]** I’ll make some for you in St. Petersburg 

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:47]** Okay. :) 

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:48]** I wanted to wish you happy birthday. ♥ Even if you don’t celebrate it much, I think it’s a pretty important date.

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:48]** Yuuri~! You remembered! (≧▽≦)

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:49]** …I’ve known your birthday for probably ten years, Victor. It’s not classified information or anything.

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:50]** Don’t care, got birthday wishes from my Yuuri (´♡`) ♥ ♥

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:50]** 28 years old, hmm~ 

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:51]** Yurio says I should start digging my grave

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:51]** Please don’t. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:51]** Don’t worry~ (´∀｀) I’ve got plenty of life left in me!

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:52]** Yurio’s just mad that I’m not bothered by him being in first~~~ 

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:53]** Even if I was bothered this reaction would still be more fun

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:53]** Say hi to Yurio for me. Don’t tease him too much!

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:53]** I’m as innocent as a lamb, Yuuri!

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:54]** Really… 

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:54]** Anyway, I need to get going. Need lunch, then we’re going to the rink. I’ll let you know what slot I get.

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:55]** Good luck tonight!

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:56]** you can do it!! (ง •̀ω•́)ง✧

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:56]** *chu!*

**[Victor Nikiforov 12:56]** Did I do it right?

**[Yuuri Katsuki 12:56]** yes. :) 

 

Much to Yuuri’s relief, he drew the second slot in the short programs. That was good for Victor, as far as timing went, and good for Yuuri too - a later slot just meant more time to get pent up and nervous about his own performance. Of course, if he was going to do everything Victor believed he was capable of, he would have to get used to placing high in the short programs and thus taking one of the last slots in the free skate. He was determined not to repeat what had happened at the Cup of China. 

The afternoon seemed to stretch on interminably, with the promise of Yuuri’s own short program and Victor’s free skate making him excited and nervous by turns. Still, being around other people helped. Minako was an able assistant coach, helping him refine the gestural components. “Remember, don’t overthink the jumps,” she said, reaching out to tweak the angle of one of Yuuri’s arms. “That’s what happened at the Grand Prix Final, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said with a sigh. “I was thinking so much about what I’d have to do to win gold that the presentation suffered.”

“What was it you used to think about? A pork cutlet bowl?” Minako grinned at him. 

Yuuri gave her a sheepish smile. “Kind of.” The story he and Victor were trying to tell with _Eros_ had changed since he’d first performed it. First, it had been the story of the playboy, then of the _femme fatale_. Then it had shifted, become a far more specific seduction aimed at Victor alone, even if Yuuri hadn’t been willing to admit that to himself at first. 

Now that he had Victor, what should the story become? 

Yuuri lowered his arms and took a deep breath, mustering up his courage. “Um. Minako-sensei, can you… can you still seduce someone you’re already engaged to?” Oh, good, he’d managed to get the question out without squeaking.

Minako laughed, not unkindly. “Of course. In a way, that can be even more fun - there’s no uncertainty. You already know you have them, so there’s no reason to hold anything back.” 

_Ah._ Yuuri’s cheeks reddened, but he squared his shoulders and gave Minako a determined nod. “I’m going to think about that, then.” 

She raised one eyebrow at him, amused. “Poor Victor, having to watch from so far away.”

“Minako-sensei,” Yuuri spluttered at the look on her face. 

“Well, that’s what you want, isn’t it? Don’t be embarrassed,” Minako said with a chuckle. “Just commit to it with everything you have and _skate_. I know you can do it.” 

Yuuri considered, then nodded again. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” 

“Good,” Minako said, approvingly. “Now, if you’re going to seduce your fiancé properly, we should try a little of this…”

“A-ah… wait, isn’t that too much? I’m not Chris…” 

“Oh, Victor will love it. I promise!” 

……………………

Yuuri stretched one last time, then took off his jacket, folding it quickly and setting it aside. The lights caught the glitter of his short program costume, and he smoothed out the ruffle at his waist before setting the poodle tissue holder down atop the barrier and positioning it exactly where he wanted it. It felt lonely doing this without Victor.

The sweepers were coming off the ice now, arms laden with gifts that had been thrown down for the previous skater. Yuuri waited for them to clear, then took off his skate guards and stepped onto the ice, turning automatically towards the barrier as he would have if Victor had been present. There would be no last-minute instructions or encouragement this time. 

Yuuri took a deep breath and lowered his head slightly so he could brush a kiss over his ring. Not a showy gesture, not meant for anyone but him - it was a reminder, steadying. Victor had choreographed this program just for him, and Victor didn’t need to be physically present for Yuuri to skate it well. Indeed, as Minako had said, the thought of Victor watching from far away and being affected by it was… very helpful. 

_Who am I skating for? I know who._

“Representing Ice Castle Hasetsu, please welcome Katsuki Yuuri!”

The cheering and applause was louder than he’d been expecting, and he let it buoy him as he skated out to center ice. The crowd hushed as Yuuri steadied himself, and a moment later the familiar music started to play. 

_That’s right. He’s still watching. I know he is,_ Yuuri thought as he began to skate, sweeping his hands down his body. _I’m going to make him wish he was here._ He imagined Victor far away, focusing on his phone screen, and blew him a kiss before moving into the step sequence. What would Victor’s face look like as Yuuri performed, as he infused his movements with all the _eros_ he had? Would he blush, just a little? Would he smile? 

_Watch, Victor. This is what you’re missing by not being here. This is what you can’t touch tonight._ Yuuri’s lips curved in a sly smile as he went into the spin. That was definitely a good thought, fitting who he was at this moment. _I may not be as good at this as Chris, but Chris doesn’t have you. Nobody knows what you want the way I do._

Distantly, he was aware of the need to make a decision; they’d choreographed several variants on this program, including the one he’d performed at the Grand Prix Final. Yuuri smiled again as he landed the triple axel; he heard the audience’s cheers, but they seemed to be miles away. Of course it had to be the quadruple flip, Victor’s signature move. _Not just his now. Ours._ He remembered how excited Victor had been to teach him, his exuberant embrace when Yuuri had proposed the change in the first place. _Don’t you want to see it, Victor? I’ll show you how good of a student I am._

Quadruple salchow. Triple toe loop. No turning back now. Yuuri picked up speed. 

_This is something that only we share._ He could feel Victor’s gaze, the anticipation thrumming through them both. Oh, yes, he could do this. _Victor, don’t take your eyes off me-_

He landed the quadruple flip flawlessly, heard Victor’s delighted gasp. _Yes, just like that- keep going, just a little more time to show him everything he’s missing._ The rink blurred around him as he went into the final sit-spin. _Hurry back, Victor…_

And it was over. 

Yuuri closed his eyes, breathing hard as the roar of the crowd swept over him, pulling him back into full awareness of his surroundings. _How was that?_ God, he wished he knew. 

He lowered his arms and gave the crowd a wave of acknowledgement, still a little astonished at his own daring. But the crowd’s reaction was heartening, and Yuuri blinked at the sheer number of flowers and gifts being thrown down onto the ice. He’d never seen so many for one of his programs, not even at the Grand Prix Final… but this was Japan, his home country, even if it wasn’t literally his home ice. 

They were proud of him.

Yuuri waved again, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, and skated over to the rink exit. No Victor to greet him, of course, but he picked up his skate guards and put them on before retrieving the poodle tissue holder, hugging it to his chest. 

Being alone in the kiss and cry was strange, too; at least at Rostelecom he’d had Yakov. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, so he sat down and kept hugging the tissue holder, occasionally waving at the cameras pointed at him. 

“The scores, please, for Katsuki Yuuri-” 

The crowd exploded into cheers, and Yuuri squinted desperately at the scoreboard, trying to make the numbers come into focus. When they did, his mouth opened soundlessly.

_… A personal best?_

Yuuri sat back, dazed, and imagined Victor’s delight. 

………………………

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:27]** YUURI~~~~ (≧∀≦)

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:27]** (´♡`) THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:27]** ALSO UNFAIR 

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:27]** pleasepleaseplease watch my free skate okay??

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:28]** yakov’s trying to take my phone away

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:29]** you’re amazing, my yuuri ♥

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:29]** and did I mention: unfair

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:29]** so cruel to your fiancé

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:29]** i’ll get you back when i get home (●♡∀♡)

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:30]** oops yakov’s turning red at me 

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:30]** i guesssss i’ll stop

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:30]** I LOVE YOUUUUUUU (´♡`) 

**[Victor Nikiforov 18:30]** watch me!!!! (ง •̀ω•́)ง✧

Yuuri grinned and tapped out a quick reply. He was certain Victor wouldn’t see it until after his free skate, so he kept it short.

**[Yuuri Katsuki 20:42]** :) ♥ call me later if you can. I don’t care what time it is for me. 

Yuuri tucked his phone into the pocket of his track pants before emptying out the remainder of the locker he’d used. The short programs were over, leaving Yuuri in first place. His short program score wasn’t much higher than at Rostelecom, but it had been enough to earn him a personal best. He felt buoyant and vaguely shaky from excitement.

_He’d_ done that. Indisputably. What Victor said was true: he wasn’t just a puppet dancing on his gifted coach’s strings. 

He had watched Minami’s short program too, as promised, and was touched by the younger skater’s earnest determination. Again, he was reminded of himself, forever chasing Victor. And Minami wasn’t too far behind, either - there was a gap between their scores, yes, but Minami’s _Lohengrin_ performance had put him in second place, right behind Yuuri. 

As he’d thought, being more open with his admirers was a lot of responsibility to take on, but when Yuuri saw how people could light up at a word of encouragement from him… that was amazing, humbling and exalting all at once. 

Maybe this was how Victor felt all the time. 

“Yuuri? Are you ready?” came Minako’s voice from the hallway, and Yuuri finished zipping up his bag before heading out to find her. The instant he was in range, she swept him up in a tight hug. 

“That was _perfect_ , Yuuri. Victor’s going to be so proud,” she said, picking him up off the ground in her enthusiasm. Then she released him, and he staggered and nearly crashed into Mari, who laughed and clapped him hard on the back. 

“Very, _very_ good. And to think you flirted like that with a stuffed poodle!” Mari teased. Yuuri turned red. 

“We’d better get going. The Russian men’s free skate has already started. I know Victor’s not skating until later, but I don’t want to be responsible for you missing his performance,” Minako said, taking Yuuri by one arm and tugging him forward, down the hallway towards the exit doors. “There’s another public viewing back at the hotel, but that might be a little too much right now.”

Yuuri considered, then nodded. “Yeah. I think being somewhere quiet will be good.” It had been a long day, and now that his own performance was over, he was thinking about Victor’s free skate. This would decide whether Victor would make the podium at all… and didn’t he have to, if he wanted to skate for Russia at the European Championships, let alone Worlds? 

“What’s with that look?” Mari said, elbowing Yuuri lightly as they continued out the doors and into a chilly Sapporo night. “Overthinking again?”

“Just thinking about Victor,” Yuuri said, his sigh forming a soft plume in the air. “I hope he makes it.” 

“He’s Victor Nikiforov. He’ll make it,” Minako said. “And if for some reason he doesn’t, that means he can spend more time coaching you. You’re going to make it to the Four Continents with Victor by your side, Yuuri. No matter what.”

“You sound very sure about that,” Yuuri replied, wincing as his bag skidded on a patch of ice and twisted sideways, the handle nearly wrenching out of his grip.

“Well, someone has to be.” Minako smiled and helped him right his bag. “Come on. Let’s get back and put your worries to rest.”

………………………

They ended up in Mari and Minako’s room, with the livestream set up on her laptop, ordering dinner from room service so they wouldn’t have to miss anything. Yuuri watched in silence, sitting in the one armchair while eating his miso ramen, letting Minako hold court as she muttered at the commentators and cheered for the skaters. The two women had ordered warm sake with their meals, plus some apparently famous Sapporo beer which only encouraged Minako to get louder and louder. 

Still, Yuuri didn’t mind. It was comfortable, the ramen was delicious and pleasantly warming, and Minako’s antics were fondly familiar, if a bit startling sometimes. It helped that he didn’t have any real emotional connection to any of the Russian men’s competitors besides Victor and Yurio, so he could watch the preceding programs without worrying too much. 

“That should’ve been higher!” Minako burst out, jabbing her chopsticks indignantly at someone’s score. “Bunch of no-good...“ 

She fell silent as the Russian crowd began to chant one name, over and over. _“Victor! Victor! Victor!”_

“... and as you may have guessed from the audience’s reaction, Victor Nikiforov will be taking the ice in a few minutes,” one of the commentators said. Yuuri could see the sweepers still on the ice, picking up the last of the gifts that had been thrown down for the previous skater. “He’s been very secretive about his plans for the free skate, so we can only speculate about what we’re about to see.”

“Yu~uri,” Minako said, leaning towards him, “what’s he going to do? You know _all_ Victor’s secrets, right?” 

“He hasn’t told me anything about the free skate,” Yuuri replied. The crowd was getting louder. 

Minako huffed, settling herself back against the pillows on her bed. “Stupid Victor.” 

The crowd’s chant erupted into riotous cheers, and Yuuri straightened in his chair, setting his now empty ramen bowl to one side. Victor was standing in the rink entrance, this time wearing a jet black costume, his every movement making light sparkle off scattered rhinestones like stars in the night sky. 

Yuuri swallowed hard and leaned forward, eyes locked on Victor as he skated to center ice. He had no idea what to expect. None at all.

A moment later, the delicate strains of a harp rippled through that distant rink, and Victor flowed into a beautiful pose, his hands outstretched as if towards someone else. “Oh, this is lovely - this is more what we’re used to seeing from Victor Nikiforov,” the commentator said as a soft, sweet flute joined the harp, and Victor skated that line of the melody, ending in a clean jump combination. “Though some of the elements seem unusual even for him…”

The commentator trailed off, and Yuuri leaned forward even more. Something in Victor’s movements felt familiar, though he couldn’t place why; he’d seen them before, but not in this context.

And then Victor stretched his hands above him, every line in his body directing strength upward, and Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. 

“Wait, that looks like a pair skating lift,” the commentator began. 

It all fell into place, then, and Yuuri couldn’t breathe. It was as if Victor was skating with an invisible partner, structuring his choreography around the empty space where that person could be, while still performing the expected elements of a single skate. His movements were achingly beautiful, and Yuuri knew _exactly_ where he’d seen Victor skate like this before: in their exhibition performance at the Grand Prix Final. 

“-triple lutz, beautiful-” The commentator’s voices felt very far away; the only thing managing to rise above the pounding of Yuuri’s heart was the lilting music, the harp and flute soaring together. 

At last, Victor slowed, coming to a graceful halt center ice, his head tilted towards the ground, his bangs falling delicately over his face. As the music came to an end, Victor lifted his right hand to his lips and kissed his ring.

Silence.

Then a storm. 

“-astonishing performance by Victor Nikiforov,” the commentator was saying, somewhere, as the crowd roared its approval. Yuuri covered his mouth with both hands, overwhelmed. 

Minako let out a whoop of joy. “He did it! I _knew_ it! That’s going to be first for sure! If it’s not, I’m going to… fight… fight Russia!”

Yuuri could feel Mari’s eyes on him, but he dared not look away from the livestream. Victor took a seat in the kiss and cry next to Yakov; the older man looked oddly annoyed, though Yuuri wasn’t sure why, not with a performance like that. Victor’s cheeks were flushed and he waved exuberantly at the cameras with the brightest smile Yuuri had ever seen. 

“-and Victor Nikiforov jumps to first place, with Yuri Plisetsky the only skater remaining! He’s guaranteed a spot on the podium!” 

“Damn right he is!” Minako yelled. 

“Yuuri, that was…” Mari said, her voice quiet. 

_That was for me. That was for **me** ,_ Yuuri thought, but couldn’t say; the lump in his throat was far too big to allow speech just yet. He was thoroughly overwhelmed, like he was one moment away from exploding into a million pieces, bursting into tears or hysterical laughter or possibly both at once. 

All he knew was that _god_ , he loved Victor Nikiforov - and Victor Nikiforov indisputably loved him back.

………………………

**[Phichit Chulanont 23:31]** OH MY GOD YUURI 

**[Phichit Chulanont 23:31]** YUURI DID YOU SEE

**[Phichit Chulanont 23:31]** YUURI I’M DYING

**[Phichit Chulanont 23:31]** YUURI WHEN ARE YOU MARRYING HIM

**[Phichit Chulanont 23:32]** IF YOU NEED A BEST MAN YOU KNOW I’VE GOT YOUR BACK

**[Phichit Chulanont 23:32]** JUST SAYING

 

**[Takeshi Nishigori 23:35]** Your fiancé just broke my entire family.

**[Takeshi Nishigori 23:35]** Tell him I’ll be expecting some sort of compensation for this later.

**[Takeshi Nishigori 23:35]** Also, that was amazing.

 

**[Yuuko Nishigori 23:47]** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Yuuri watched the remainder of the event in a daze, needing time to drift back down to earth and find himself again. He absorbed the texts coming in but didn’t reply to any of them, not yet. Nothing from Victor, of course; he knew better than to expect anything until much later.

Yurio ended the competition with a beautiful rendition of his free skate program that pushed Victor down to second place, though the difference between their total scores was small. Victor’s score was low for _him_ , but more than reasonable given that he’d been deliberately tempering the difficulty of his programs so as not to overtax himself. Georgi ended up in third.

And that was that. Just over ten days of madness, over. Victor had done it. 

Yuuri excused himself shortly afterwards as Minako’s drunken enthusiasm started to decline into sleepy incoherence. Mari kept giving him thoughtful looks, but she didn’t ask him any more questions, recognizing his need to process everything first. Yuuri was grateful for that. 

Despite his own exhaustion, Yuuri couldn’t quite keep still once he was back in his room. He was twitchy, overflowing with emotions that he couldn’t figure out how to calm. Texting Victor felt wrong; he tried, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he ended up shifting from bed to chair to aimless pacing before forcing himself to sit down again and starting the cycle anew, hoping he’d eventually wear himself out and be able to sleep.

Then his phone buzzed sharply in his hands, and he nearly dropped it. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed as he realized the message was, improbably, from Victor.

**[Victor Nikiforov 00:19]** Can I tell them? Everyone?

Yuuri stared at the phone. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 00:20]** We don’t have to, but I’d like to, if you’re okay with it. If you’re not, I won’t say anything else. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 00:22]** Yuuri?

That finally made Yuuri move, and he smiled, still a little shaky. He knew what Victor was asking, what Victor _needed_ , his own emotions no doubt as agitated as Yuuri’s were. But Victor was willing to hold back for Yuuri’s sake, if that was what Yuuri needed. That tenderness grounded Yuuri at last, warm and sweet and steady. 

**[Yuuri Katsuki 00:23]** Yes.

**[Yuuri Katsuki 00:23]** Tell the whole world. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 00:24]** ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> help i'm die
> 
> Er, I mean, I really had fun writing this one! And we're not done with the Nationals yet. There's still Yuuri's free skate to go, plus a whole lot more. But now we finally know what Victor was planning this whole time. So extra, Nikiforov. But we (and Yuuri) love you for it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the encouraging comments - I really love hearing your thoughts and feelings, so please don't be shy if you're enjoying what you're reading! Your happiness is my fuel. C:
> 
> If you want to yell about YoI with me on tumblr, you can find me at [chisotahn.tumblr.com](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to skip past the explicit scene in this chapter, stop reading at _"-rather bright, wasn't it,"_ and resume at _"There," Victor murmured_. As before, do whatever works for you!

Yuuri woke up to the sound of his alarm going off; when he opened his eyes, he could see dim light peeking through the curtains. For a moment, everything seemed normal, but then the memories of the previous night flooded through him and he fumbled for his phone. Why was it morning? Had Victor called him and he hadn’t woken up? Had Victor _not_ called him despite his request? 

The phone revealed no missed calls, multiple texts from Phichit, and multiple texts from Victor. Yuuri quickly put on his glasses and sat up, hunching over his phone. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 04:50]** I’m so sorry I couldn’t call you, my Yuuri. You wouldn’t believe how busy it’s been with interviews and everything else. Still, I’m sorry. I hope these texts make up for it a little, though I know it’s a poor substitute for a real conversation. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 04:52]** The interviews will be online by the time you read this, I’m guessing. I hope I didn’t go overboard, and I hope nobody gives you any trouble today. If they do, I’ll give them trouble later. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 04:54]** Unfortunately, I won’t be available for most of the day today (the 26th) either. I apologize for that, but I assure you it’s for a good reason. I know you can do this, my Yuuri. I promise you that I’ll be able to talk to you tonight for as long as you want. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 04:55]** I’m so proud of you. I hope you’re proud of me, too. That means more to me than any medal. 

**[Victor Nikiforov 04:56]** I love you. ♥

Yuuri let out a long breath. Part of him was still disappointed, but he understood - the media furor over Victor’s success had to be absolutely ridiculous. He’d just have to trust that Victor knew best in this case. Victor was much more experienced with such things than Yuuri. He could wait until the evening if he had to. 

Though the mention of _going overboard_... Yuuri quickly opened up Phichit’s messages, certain that his best friend had brought all the details right to him as usual. 

**[Phichit Chulanont 02:13]** wowowowow Victor really doesn’t believe in subtlety does he

 **[Phichit Chulanont 02:14]** i mean i knew that but

 **[Phichit Chulanont 02:14]** check these out, i can’t 

Several links followed, and Yuuri opened them quickly. What exactly had Victor said?

_After Astonishing Comeback Performance, Russia’s Victor Nikiforov Confirms Engagement to Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki_

_Victor Nikiforov Takes Second in Nationals, Dedicates Free Skate to Fiancé Yuuri Katsuki_

_Love Wins! Watch Victor Nikiforov Confirm Victuuri is Real [VIDEO]_

_…Oh._ Yuuri felt himself turning red. So their engagement _was_ news after all. He tapped on the last link, wanting to hear Victor’s words directly. Though what was ‘victuuri’? Was that just their names smashed together? Why? 

The video loaded to show Victor standing behind a cluster of microphones, a veritable storm of camera flashes going off around him. He was smiling, looking eager as a puppy. “Can you tell us more about your free skate program?” a reporter called out from somewhere below. “What’s the significance there, especially regarding the matching rings you share with your student, Yuuri Katsuki?” 

“Yuuri is my inspiration,” Victor said, his grin broadening. “And so much more than that - he’s my student, yes, but also my competitor, and most importantly, he’s my fiancé.” The amount of sound in the room shot up exponentially, and Yuuri had to turn the volume down. 

“So those rings _are-_ ”

“Yes, yes, they’re engagement rings,” Victor said smoothly, holding up his right hand to show off his ring. “We haven’t set a date yet, but I wanted to be perfectly clear about how much Yuuri means to me. Right now, we both have competitions to be prepared for - in fact, he’s in the middle of Japanese Nationals right now, so please let him compete without troubling him about all this! We’ll have plenty of time for questions later.” Victor’s smile took on a faint edge, something protective, warning. 

“Does this mean one or both of you will be relocating?” another reporter called out, and Yuuri paused the video, sitting back with a dazed look on his face. He hadn’t quite realized what a furor this would cause. Going back to Phichit’s texts revealed a good dozen articles on the subject from last night alone. 

Victor had probably known, though, which was why he’d asked Yuuri’s permission first. He started to laugh, remembering Victor’s words from their second night apart. _And if people don’t understand how much you mean to me, well. That can be fixed._

Oh, _Victor_. Trust him to declare his intentions through figure skating and hold a press conference afterwards to wipe out any possible ambiguity. It was a bit embarrassing, especially since Yuuri wasn’t often open about his personal life, but he couldn’t deny that it was gratifying for people to undeniably know how important they were to each other. 

Yuuri was still chuckling to himself when someone knocked on the door; a moment later, he heard Mari’s muffled voice. “Yuuri? I brought breakfast - can we talk for a few minutes?” 

Yuuri scrambled out of bed and hurried to the door, unlocking it and holding it open for Mari. “Sure - just one second, I just got up,” he said, pointing at the bathroom. She nodded.

When he emerged, Mari was sitting in the room’s one armchair, holding a takeout cup of coffee. Another coffee and a small paper bag were sitting on the nightstand for him, and he sat down on the edge of the bed across from her. She looked very serious, far more so than usual. “I-is everything all right?” he asked, suddenly worried. “Mom? Dad? Makkachin?”

“Everything is fine at home,” she said, and he relaxed again. She gave him a wry smile. “I’m actually here because of you. And Victor.” 

_Ah._ Yuuri let out a breath before picking up his coffee and taking a careful sip. “You saw, then.”

Mari snorted. “The _entire world_ saw, Yuuri. And I know how private you are when it comes to personal matters. I wanted to make sure that you were okay. Though I suppose it was foolish to think that all this wouldn’t be big news eventually. Victor doesn’t do things by halves, does he?”

Yuuri gave her a lopsided grin. “No. No, he doesn’t.” He never had, and he probably never would. Yuuri would have to get used to that, to the knowledge that Victor Nikiforov, living legend of figure skating, and Victor Nikiforov, the man he loved, were the same person. He’d known that, of course, but Victor had made that clear to everyone in his free skate, showing the world that every version of Victor Nikiforov was madly in love with Yuuri Katsuki. 

The thought made him pause again. _God,_ what on earth had he done to deserve Victor? 

Mari cleared her throat after a moment, and Yuuri jumped. She raised one eyebrow at him. “So? _Are_ you okay with all this?” 

“Yes, I am,” Yuuri said quietly. “I mean… I guess I didn’t really think about the media and everything like that, but… Victor’s worth it to me. Victor’s worth _everything_ to me. And I told him it would be okay to tell the media,” he added. “He texted me yesterday and I said yes. The free skate was his idea, but the rest we decided together.” 

Mari nodded, looking relieved. “Good. I just wanted to be sure. I know Victor’s a good person, but sometimes he can be a little careless.” 

“I don’t think he’d be careless with this,” Yuuri said, feeling the certainty deep in his bones. “Not with me… with us.” 

“Good.” She grinned. “Then eat your breakfast, Yuuri. It’s a big day for you today, in case you forgot.”

“It feels like the past three days have all been big for some reason,” Yuuri said with a sigh, obediently reaching for the paper bag and finding red bean buns inside. “It’s a good thing today’s the last day of my competition. I’m exhausted.”

Mari chuckled. “And the gala isn’t until the 28th, right?” 

“Yeah. I get a day off,” Yuuri said, taking a big bite of one of the buns. “I’m going to sleep in,” he added, through a mouthful of red bean. 

She shook her head and picked up her own coffee cup. “Good. Did you sleep well last night?”

“I did. I fell asleep right away. Victor texted me instead of calling, so I got a full night’s rest.” 

Mari made a face. “At least _someone_ did. Did you know Minako-sensei snores like a dying boar when she’s drunk?”

Yuuri just barely swallowed his coffee before he could spit it out. “No, I didn’t,” he managed. 

“Oh, to be so innocent,” Mari said wryly, taking another long sip of her own coffee. “ _Eat,_ ” she added, jabbing a finger at the bag of buns. “Or I’m making you buy the next six coffees I go through today.” 

Yuuri quickly grabbed a second bun and shoved it into his mouth. 

………………………

The distant sound of cheering made it past Yuuri’s earbuds. He paused in his stretches and glanced in the general direction of the rink. The free skate had started, then. Like at the Cup of China, he had a while to wait before it would be his turn.

Unlike the Cup of China, he was determined to not spend the entire wait slowly turning into a nervous wreck. Oh, he’d let himself cry if he needed to, solely to vent the pressure, but it would be nice if he didn’t have to fall quite that far. 

Yuuri got up and headed out into the hallway, jogging up and down it at an easy pace, focusing on the stretch and burn of his muscles, taking measured breaths. His body felt tuned and ready, nothing amiss anywhere. As usual, his mind was the problem. 

_I did better than ever yesterday,_ Yuuri reminded himself as he reached the end of the hallway and started jogging back. _I can take it easy and decrease the jump difficulty if I have to and still make it onto the podium._ And the podium would be the first step towards the Four Continents and, later, Worlds, where he could finally skate on the same ice as Victor again. 

Yuuri sighed and fetched up against a wall, leaning back for a moment and checking the time on his phone. He’d put the device in airplane mode to lock the world out as best he could while still being able to access his playlist. Part of him was tempted to check and see if Victor had messaged him yet, but… no, Victor had said he’d be busy all day. 

Another roar from the crowd crept in, and Yuuri frowned. He could go further away - outside, even, if needed, but why? There wasn’t any additional comfort to be found there. He was skating today. So were others. There was nothing he could do to affect their performances in any way - the only thing that mattered was how well he could execute his own program. There was no reason to drive himself further and further away, to flinch away from every sound. All he would find would be more loneliness. _It’s fine. You’re fine. Stop it. Just breathe._

Very deliberately, Yuuri returned to the prep area and went back inside. He could hear the crowd noise much more easily here, yes, but there were also people - people who by and large weren’t looking at him, because they were too busy focusing on their own performances. The conversation was soothing, familiar, a litany of choreography and jumps. 

Slowly, Yuuri found himself beginning to relax. Not entirely, of course, but he no longer felt quite so close to the edge of a dangerous precipice. 

_I did this before. I cried and I screamed at Victor, and I still got a silver medal. There’s no reason I can’t do it again. Without the screaming this time._

One after another, the skaters were called up for their turn on the ice, and the room emptied. At last, only Yuuri, Minami, and his coach were left. The younger skater was sharply focused as he practiced his choreography, the same playful boogie he’d performed at the regional qualifiers. Yuuri could already catch hints of how Minami had refined the program in the intervening months. He’d have to watch a video afterwards and see exactly how well Minami did. 

And then it was Minami’s turn. The younger skater took a deep breath, then turned at the doorway. “Yuuri-kun! Good luck!” he said, loudly, his hands clenched at his sides.

Yuuri smiled. “You too. Good luck,” he replied, and Minami beamed before giving him a wave and practically bouncing out the door.

Yuuri took off his ear buds then, heading to his bag to take his trainers and track pants off before grabbing his skates and settling on a bench to put them on. As he laced his skates up, he heard the cheers for the previous skater’s score, followed by the raucous beat of Minami’s free skate song. Yuuri got to his feet, taking off his jacket, settling it and his phone in his locker. He carefully smoothed his costume, brushing out any wrinkles in the fabric, and peeked in the mirror to finish slicking back his hair.

_Okay. I’m ready._

Yuuri let out a long breath and picked up the poodle tissue holder before heading out to the rink proper. Minami finished his program just as Yuuri came up to the barrier, and Yuuri clapped for him along with the crowd. Minami grinned brightly as he stepped off the ice, flushed with pride and exertion. “Good luck,” Minami repeated before his coach ushered him off to the kiss and cry. 

Yuuri put the poodle tissue holder down on the barrier, just so. As he waited for the sweepers to finish, he kissed his ring again, just as he had the day before. Nothing so ostentatious as Victor’s grand gesture, of course, but the touch of the metal steadied him nevertheless. 

“Presenting the last competitor in the men’s free skate event, representing Ice Castle Hasetsu, Katsuki Yuuri!” 

Yuuri skated out to center ice, focused, centered. He didn’t have to pour everything into this like he had at the Grand Prix Final. There was no JJ or Yurio to try and beat here. Yet as the first notes of _Yuri on Ice_ began to play, he knew in his bones that he wasn’t going to change a thing. He remembered the look on Victor’s face, that joy, shining. 

He wasn’t ever going to skate it the old way ever again. 

Yuuri cupped his hands and lifted them up, every note ringing pure and sweet off the ice. As he began to skate, he could hear himself explaining to Victor, way back when they’d been choreographing the first version of this routine. _At first, I felt that I was fighting alone._ He infused his movements with that searching, that loneliness, remembering the ache of it. 

But he hadn’t been alone, even then. He’d been searching for what should have been obvious, what _was_ obvious in retrospect. His family, his friends, his community had always been there for him, if he’d only looked up to find them. He’d been lost in a fog of his own making.

Yuuri picked up speed and threw himself into the first combination jump, quad toe loop, double toe loop. The first glimpse of light, the first inkling that he wasn’t alone.

When they’d started working on this program, Yuuri hadn’t gone into great detail about those around him, those who had always been there for him - but now, with his new perspective, Yuuri could find every name somehow represented in the choreography. A gentle lilt for his parents, not fully understanding their son’s passion but supporting him regardless. Another for Minako and Mari, who had always been understanding at the core, and so careful of him. Yuuko and her family, always watching over him.

The spin for Phichit, the first time friendship had ever come easily. And the quad salchow for Yurio, who had taught him how to land the jump. He did so now, cleanly, and smiled as the distant crowd cheered in response. 

Once, those names frightened him, represented a list of all those he would disappoint. Now, he could only be grateful for them. Even the worst failure of Yuuri’s professional career hadn’t pushed a single person away from him. In fact, it had brought many closer. One in particular.

He flew through the triple flip, landing it easily. _Now, I’ve realized something like love._ Love, unlikely and improbably, in the shape of Victor Nikiforov showing up in the hot spring. Victor, who believed in him. Victor, who _loved_ him. And that love was like a lighthouse breaking through the fog, illuminating all the other people who had always believed in him too, finally letting him understand and be supported by that love. The leap of the quad toe loop was an epiphany; the following combination, pure joy written in axel, loop, and salchow. 

_I’ve changed so much since then_ , Yuuri realized, speeding up for the triple lutz, triple loop combination and landing both before flowing into the step sequence. He was soaring along with the piano and violin now, barely cognizant of his surroundings. He could feel the burn of exertion, tipping towards fatigue but not quite there yet. Just a little more.

Yuuri launched himself into the quadruple flip. The landing threw him just a bit off balance, and he steadied himself with one hand on the ice. For an instant, dismay rose within him as it had at the Grand Prix Final during his short program, but he pushed it down again. _No. It’s okay. I’m fine._

_I can make mistakes and still be okay._

He came out of his spin as the music slowed, matching his movements to the last notes, pointing at the space where Victor belonged. 

The crowd roared approval, and Yuuri gasped for breath. He could see the brown blob of the poodle tissue box along the line of his final pose, just as he’d intended. God, he’d done this for Victor so often that he could practically see him standing there right now, as if he’d never been gone at all.

_…Wait._

Yuuri lowered his arms, squinting.

And then his heart leapt, and he was skating as if he hadn’t just poured everything he had into his performance, because he wasn’t imagining that grey smudge, he _wasn’t_ , the sudden burst of sound from the audience assuring him of that. _“Victor,”_ he gasped, desperate, barely remembering to brake so he wouldn’t fly right off the ice.

“ _There_ you are, my Yuuri,” and Victor took one step out onto the ice and gathered him up, pulling him close. Victor who was somehow _here_ and Yuuri had no idea why or how but none of that mattered, not with Victor’s arms around him, Victor’s heart pounding to match Yuuri’s own.

Yuuri closed his eyes and buried his head against Victor’s shoulder. “How did I do?” he whispered, feeling as though Victor’s embrace was the only thing keeping him upright. 

“Perfect,” Victor breathed, and Yuuri smiled. 

………………………

Yuuri ended up on the top of the podium that night, beaming as he accepted the gold medal and an elaborate bouquet of flowers. Minami took silver, and a young man from Hokkaido took bronze, much to the crowd’s delight. 

After the ceremony, Yuuri rejoined Victor almost shyly, holding the medal out towards his coach much as he had at the Grand Prix Final. “It’s gold this time,” he said quietly, smiling at Victor. “I know it’s not a Grand Prix Final medal, but it’s gold all the same.”

Victor chuckled fondly and put the medal back around Yuuri’s neck. “It looks good on you.”

“And you got a silver, didn’t you?” Yuuri’s smile turned teasing. “Hmm. I don’t know how I feel about that. I probably won’t want to kiss it, that’s for sure.”

Victor pouted. “Yuuri, that’s not fair. I have lots of gold medals you can kiss.” 

Yuuri began to laugh, then paused as something occurred to him. “Wait, Victor - if you’re here now… Russian Nationals do their medals all at once, don’t they? Did you leave before the medal ceremony?”

“Perhaps,” Victor replied, his eyes bright with mischief. “Yakov turned a very startling shade of red. Fortunately, I told him you were moving back to Russia with me, so he wouldn’t have to deal with me running off like this any more. He said he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with me at all. He’s very funny.” 

Yuuri shook his head. “I kind of feel sorry for him.”

“Georgi, Mila, and Yurio are hard to deal with, it’s true,” Victor said, trying to keep a straight face and failing completely. “But enough about Russia. I believe we have some reporters to talk to, don’t we?”

Yuuri groaned. “Do we have to? I just want to go back to the hotel with you,” he sighed, though as he spoke he ran one hand through his hair, neatening it for the cameras. Press obligations weren’t easily dodged, and really, it was past time that he stopped trying. Morooka would be so surprised. 

Victor brushed a kiss over Yuuri’s forehead. “Soon, my Yuuri. For now, let’s face them proudly.” He smiled, then adjusted the gold medal on Yuuri's chest so that it hung straight. “There.”

The press descended on them like a whirlwind, of course; Yuuri’s gold medal win was exciting enough, and Victor’s sudden appearance only added fuel to the fire. Fortunately, Victor took the lead, gently steering Yuuri through interview requests and the expected appearances with cheerful aplomb, giving the press a taste of what they wanted while not letting the two of them get bogged down in the details. 

It wasn’t until they won free of the press that Yuuri found out exactly how Victor had made it to the rink. Minako and Mari were waiting for them in the hallway outside the warm-up area, and Mari was grinning broadly, clearly very proud of herself. “Surprise,” she told Yuuri in Japanese.

“You knew,” Yuuri replied, smiling back at her. “How long have you known?”

“Since this morning. He’s impulsive,” Mari said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Victor. Victor tilted his head slightly to one side and gave Yuuri a questioning look.

“She says you’re impulsive,” Yuuri said in English. “I agree with her. When did you come up with this plan?”

“I’d been thinking about it since we left Barcelona, but I didn’t actually make up my mind and buy the ticket until after your short program,” Victor admitted cheerfully. He tilted his head down and whispered into Yuuri’s ear. “My hand was forced, you see. All your fault. Again.” 

“Oh, I see.” Yuuri blushed. 

“I brought him here,” Mari said, also in English. “I get a…” She paused and frowned. “I don’t know the word. I did something for you, so you do something for me?”

“A favor?” Yuuri guessed. 

“Yes, that. You have to give me a favor. Lots of them, Nikiforov,” Mari said, pointing at Victor.

Victor laughed and bowed to her. “I’m in your debt.”

“We should head back to the hotel,” Minako said. “It’s late, I’m tired, and I know both of you are going to be tired once you realize what time it is.”

“It’s four hours earlier for me,” Victor replied cheerfully, but he picked up Yuuri’s bag in one hand and draped his other arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“ _You_ spent all night and most of today in airports and on airplanes,” Minako scolded. “I know how long it takes to get from Yekaterinburg to here. Now that you’re Yuuri’s fiancé you have to start taking care of yourself properly, Victor. I won’t have him picking up bad habits from you.”

Victor gave her a wounded look. “I would never allow it, I assure you. I intend to take very good care of Yuuri.” His voice went soft, and Minako nodded, approving. “Then let’s go.” Victor lightly stroked his hand down Yuuri’s spine, coming to rest at the small of his back. 

Yuuri smiled and let Victor’s touch guide him home. 

………………………

There was no question of Victor getting his own hotel room, of course. They retrieved Victor’s luggage from reception and said good night to Minako and Mari before heading up to Yuuri’s room. “Oh, good. That will work nicely,” Victor said upon seeing the bed, shedding his coat and scarf and tossing them over the armchair. “I was a little worried that I’d have to sleep on the floor or something.”

Yuuri made a face at him. “I’d change rooms before I let that happen.” He started taking off his own layers, first his winter coat and then his training jacket, revealing the soft glitter of his free skate costume underneath. Victor made an appreciative noise, and Yuuri blushed, fighting the absurd urge to turn away from his fiancé before taking off his jeans and track pants. 

“That costume really does suit you,” Victor murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Mine were a little generic. Unavoidable, given the circumstances, but I definitely want to refine them before Euros.” 

“You looked beautiful,” Yuuri assured him, setting his other clothes aside before giving Victor an uncertain look. They’d been apart from each other for long enough that Yuuri wasn’t sure what he wanted - the idea of jumping Victor and showing his fiancé exactly how much Yuuri had missed him was very appealing, but it was getting very late and Yuuri’s exhaustion was starting to push through the emotional high of winning gold and having Victor back with him. “Um. What do you want, Victor?” 

Victor smiled at him, resting his chin in one hand. “Being here with you is good. Very good. Watching you undress is also good.” Yuuri blushed again, and Victor chuckled, low. “But what I want most is to hold you, Yuuri. That’s all I’ve wanted for the past ten days.”

“Me too,” Yuuri said, smiling back and shifting to take the costume off, pulling on a clean pair of boxers before heading to the closet to hang the costume pieces up to air. When he turned around again, he found Victor had shifted to lay down on the bed, opening his arms to Yuuri in silent invitation. 

Yuuri climbed onto the bed and settled into Victor’s embrace, making a small sound of contentment as his fiancé pulled him close, gently tugging Yuuri down so they were laying side by side, curled against each other. The contact was exactly what Yuuri had been craving, and he could feel a lingering tension leaving him as he nuzzled against Victor’s shoulder. “We should shower before too long, though,” he said reluctantly. “I probably stink.” 

“You don’t. And we will. Just not yet.” Victor sighed, stroking one hand down Yuuri’s upper back. “We need this.”

Yuuri smiled. “We do,” he agreed, softly. He let his eyes slip closed, Victor’s warmth steadying him. Victor, who was _here_ , improbably; Victor, who hadn’t even waited to get his medal before flying to Yuuri’s side. 

Victor, who had spelled out his love for Yuuri on the ice, dancing around a space shaped just for him.

Yuuri smothered a delighted laugh against Victor’s shirt, and Victor made a questioning noise. “Just… realizing,” Yuuri said, planting a kiss on the side of Victor’s neck before nestling against him again. “This is all really happening, isn’t it? You and I, I mean.” 

“I should hope so, or else my credibility is completely shot,” Victor said, amused. His hand stilled at the nape of Yuuri’s neck, fingers lightly tangling in Yuuri’s hair. 

“You know, I wasn’t sure I was really proposing to you until the moment you put your ring on my finger,” Yuuri continued, his voice lowering, almost reverent. “Up until then, I could rationalize it away, tell myself it was something else, something less… less absolute. Something safer.” Victor stopped the gentle stroke of fingers through his hair, as if focusing completely on Yuuri’s words. “Something that wouldn’t hurt so badly if I was wrong… but I wasn’t wrong.”

“Definitely not wrong,” Victor murmured, shifting to hold him even tighter.

“I didn’t think I had any right to tie you down-”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, his tone sharpening a bit. 

“No, no, I know - I know I’m not tying you down,” Yuuri said. “But that was how my thoughts went at the time.” Victor settled, placated for now. “But I’d been thinking about… about proposing to you ever since I came back from Rostelecom.”

Victor chuckled. “Ah, so it _was_ almost like a marriage proposal.”

“Shush,” Yuuri muttered, then ducked to bury his head against Victor’s shoulder. “That… that gave me the idea, yes. So I thought I’d try, if I could find the courage, and see what happened. Part of me was so sure it would only ever be a good luck charm, that you didn’t want anything more than that… until you gave me your ring too. And I’ve been realizing that this is _real_ ever since.” 

“Oh, my Yuuri,” Victor sighed, trailing one hand down Yuuri’s side. “I’ve never been so happy to _not_ get a good luck charm in my entire life.” He grinned as Yuuri looked up, his blue eyes bright with joy. “I’m so sorry that I had to leave you so soon, but I’m back now.”

“You are,” Yuuri said, content. “Thank you.” He tilted his head and found Victor’s lips, kissing him chastely at first, then deepening as Victor hummed approvingly, his lips parting to let Yuuri in. The warmth of him made Yuuri shiver, and he pressed into Victor’s mouth more urgently, feeling Victor’s fingers tangling in his hair again, keeping him close. When he broke the kiss they were both breathing hard, and he stared down at Victor, trying to figure out where to go from here. He hadn’t intended - but _god_ , he wanted, and- 

“You realize I’ve been needing you to do that since last night,” Victor managed. “You and your damn short program-”

…It _had_ worked, then. Yuuri stared at him, slowly reaching down to brush one finger over the buttons on Victor’s shirt. He _could_ , couldn’t he. Victor would let him, if he could only summon up the courage.

Yuuri hesitated for a moment, then scrambled off the bed. “Yuuri, wait,” Victor protested, but Yuuri slammed one hand down on the light switch, plunging the room into darkness, and Victor chuckled. “Ah. The light _was_ rather bright, wasn’t it?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes in Victor’s general direction. There were some things he still found easier to do in the dark, and Victor damn well knew it. Yuuri ignored the gentle teasing in Victor’s tone and climbed back up on the bed; Victor met him halfway, sitting up and reaching for him, but Yuuri pushed him back down onto the mattress with both hands. 

“-Yuuri,” Victor gasped, the sound sending a wave of need crashing through him. Feverishly, Yuuri worked the buttons of Victor’s shirt open, pushing the fabric back before skimming his fingertips over Victor’s chest and abdomen, as if trying to memorize every angle. Yuuri had never been this bold in bed before, but didn’t he take the lead every time he skated _Eros?_ Surely this was a natural progression. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked Victor, breathless, a little shocked at his own daring.

“Touch me. Kiss me,” Victor managed. “Remember what we did over the phone that night? I was imagining you touching me. Make that real too, Yuuri-” 

Yuuri shuddered at the memory of Victor in that faraway bed, lost to pleasure, imagining Yuuri’s hands on him in place of his own. “Okay,” he said, feeling Victor tremble under his fingertips. He’d been slow, that time, deliberate, and Yuuri slowed his fingers, his touch featherlight against Victor’s heated skin. Victor let out a hissing breath, his head falling back against the pillows. Yuuri saw the opportunity and took it, leaning down to trail kisses down Victor’s neck. 

“Yes, that- that’s good,” Victor said, his voice shaky. “Here, Yuuri, let me…” Victor sat up, taking his shirt off completely and tossing it away before giving his pants the same treatment. A moment later, Yuuri shivered at the sudden warmth of Victor’s hands on his hips, Victor’s thumbs stroking over his hipbones. Quickly, he moved to straddle Victor and press him down again, his ass grazing Victor’s growing erection. Victor jolted under him at the touch, his fingers digging into Yuuri’s hips. 

Yuuri’s heart was pounding in his ears as he reached behind him to palm Victor’s cock. Victor made a breathless noise, trying to push up into Yuuri’s hand, though Yuuri’s weight was keeping him nicely pinned. “Last time, you said you wanted it slow,” Yuuri said, lifting his hand up a bit, much to Victor’s consternation. 

“I think… _god_ , Yuuri… you were the one who said that,” Victor managed, squirming. 

“And you did what I said then, so do what I say now,” Yuuri said firmly.

A tremor ran through Victor’s body at his words. “That… it’s… it’s completely unfair how hot that is,” Victor gasped as Yuuri bent to kiss him again, avoiding Victor’s mouth entirely. Instead, Yuuri lavished attention on Victor’s chest and collarbones, Victor’s every shiver fuelling Yuuri’s need. Yuuri’s boxers were tented over his erection now, and he could feel the tip of Victor’s cock against his ass. 

“Did… did you want to see?” One of Victor’s hands left Yuuri’s side, reaching for him, though Victor couldn’t quite reach his face in this position. Instead, Victor’s fingertips just brushed Yuuri’s chest. “Like you did then?” 

...He did, actually, when Victor put it that way. Yuuri slid off of Victor and turned, taking in the fruits of his hard work, just visible in what light crept in through the curtains. Victor’s underwear did absolutely nothing to keep him in check when he was like this, and his cock was fully erect, straining. Yuuri swallowed and shoved his own boxers down, shivering at the slide of fabric and waistband over his own erection. 

“Good,” Victor breathed. “Now what? Will you make me wait again?”

Yuuri stared at him. That’s right, he’d had Victor tease himself before, achingly slow. “I… we’ve waited long enough,” he managed, bending over Victor’s cock, fighting back a moan as his own erection pressed against Victor’s side. Victor made an incoherent sound as Yuuri gently kissed the tip of his cock, then brought one hand up to stroke, prompting Victor to roll his hips upwards. 

“Let me- Yuuri, come _here_ ,” Victor groaned, abruptly pulling himself up into a sitting position and tugging Yuuri into his arms. Yuuri fell against Victor’s chest, gasping as Victor’s fingers found his cock, moving in quick, hungry strokes. Blindly, Yuuri felt for Victor’s length, taking him in hand, falling into the rhythm Victor had set. They both needed this so desperately. 

Victor thrust upwards into Yuuri’s hands, his movements rocking them both, summoning up fresh jolts of pleasure. “Yuuri, _god,_ my Yuuri,” Victor moaned, and shuddered all over as he came, whimpering as Yuuri’s fingers slowed, gently brushing overstimulated skin. Victor’s chest heaved as he panted, lost. 

Yuuri abruptly wished he’d been brave enough to do this with the lights on so he could make out every detail of the expression on Victor’s face. Some part of him was still aghast at what he’d done. But his need was far more demanding, and Yuuri groaned as Victor regained his bearings and started moving again, fingers moving swift and sure over Yuuri’s cock. “You too, my Yuuri, come on,” Victor breathed, the words a puff of warmth against Yuuri’s skin. “ _Please_ , Yuuri-” 

A cry of pure need escaped Yuuri as he gave in at last, that delicious tension building to a peak before shattering and taking him along with it. He reached blindly for Victor and found him, and Victor wrapped one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, supporting Yuuri as he trembled, overwhelmed by sensation. 

Then Victor was carefully lowering Yuuri back against the pillows. “I don’t know how I survived without you,” Victor whispered, brushing Yuuri’s hair back. A moment later, Yuuri felt the pat of tissues as Victor cleaned him up, prompting an involuntary shiver as Victor gently tended to his spent cock. 

“There,” Victor murmured, tugging the sheets up over Yuuri before sliding in next to him, rolling him onto his side so that Victor could spoon him. They fit together so perfectly, and Yuuri let out a contented sigh as Victor’s hands settled over his chest. He felt utterly boneless, enveloped in a sweet, warm haze. He felt more than heard Victor’s answering hum of approval. God, it was so good to have Victor there at last. Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure how he’d survived their separation either.

But he had. They both had, and they wouldn’t have to leave each other’s sides for the foreseeable future. “Love you, Victor,” he murmured, letting his eyes drift closed as Victor gently kissed the back of his neck. 

“I know,” Victor replied, his tone hushed, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck. “I love you too, my Yuuri.” 

Home at last, Yuuri slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a lot of feelings *dying whale noises*
> 
> This was a long one at 6k+ words in a single chapter, pushing the total word count over 30k! I'm actually in the process of moving IRL, so there may be a bit of a delay before chapter ten is released, depending on how things go. I hope the length of this chapter and the events therein are satisfying enough to keep you sated and content while I work that out. :) 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments and kudos - I utterly adore getting to see your reactions and getting to interact with my readers a bit in comments. It makes me so happy! So if you enjoy something, don't hesitate to let me know. As I said last chapter, your happiness is my fuel. C:
> 
> (also, i just. i really need to scream about this chapter. please send help.)
> 
> Lastly, I've had a few inquiries asking how I feel about fanart for this fic?! UM?? YES?? 100% blanket permission to draw things granted forever and I will probably cry happy tears.
> 
> If you want to yell about YoI with me on tumblr, you can find me at [chisotahn.tumblr.com](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com). I'm also on Twitter @Tahla_Amariyo.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an explicit bit in this chapter as well, so if you'd prefer to skip that sequence you can stop at _the rhythm sweet and soothing_ and resume at _Yuuri kissed him_. Do what works best for you!

Yuuri awoke to morning light pushing past the curtains and the sound of soft snoring. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes before he remembered he wasn’t alone in the hotel room any more. A smile spread over his face as he looked down at the bed and found Victor sprawled there, almost entirely buried in the blankets except for one bare foot.

The vast majority of the time, Victor woke up before Yuuri did, making the sight of sleeping Victor a rare treat. So Yuuri watched him, ever so gently pushing the blankets back from Victor’s face. The snoring was new to him too, though Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d just been too deeply asleep to hear any previous occurrences. The sound of it was oddly endearing, and Yuuri had to resist the urge to touch, lest he wake Victor up. For now, he wanted to preserve this quiet moment of intimacy. 

After a few minutes, Victor shifted, reaching for and finding Yuuri, shrugging one warm arm over Yuuri’s legs. Yuuri smiled, hopelessly fond. “Good morning,” Yuuri said quietly.

“Mmm. Morning already?” Victor mumbled, his eyes still stubbornly closed. 

“... you _are_ tired,” Yuuri said ruefully, stroking one hand through Victor’s tousled hair, returning it to some semblance of its usual appearance. “We don’t have to go anywhere. You can sleep as much as you want.” 

Victor’s eyes cracked open, just a sliver of blue. “But Yuuri’s here. Waking up is important,” he said, rolling onto his side so he could face Yuuri more comfortably. Yuuri traced his fingers down the line of Victor’s jaw, and Victor sighed a little and leaned into the touch. 

“It’s fine. We have all day.” Yuuri moved to stroke down Victor’s neck, continuing his slow, gentle progression.

Victor chuckled under his breath as Yuuri’s fingertips found his collarbones. “And where are you going, cheeky katsudon?”

“Just exploring,” Yuuri informed him, lifting up the bedclothes and folding them to one side, baring Victor’s torso. His careful touches were starting to elicit pleased twitches from Victor. Still, he kept his movements slow, trailing his fingers down Victor’s side, far more restrained than the previous night’s desperate need. 

And then Victor flinched away, a pained hiss escaping him, and Yuuri froze. “What? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Victor said. “Don’t stop,” but Yuuri frowned, sitting up and leaning in to squint at Victor’s skin. Something seemed off, but Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was just the dim light. Frowning, he scooted over to switch on the bedside lamp before returning to Victor’s side.

“It’s nothing,” Victor added, quickly.

It most certainly was _not_ nothing. Victor was marked with ugly bruises in various stages of healing, spreading an unpleasant melange of colors under his skin. Yuuri made a distressed noise; Victor sat up and caught Yuuri’s hands in his. “Yuuri, it’s nothing,” Victor repeated. 

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did-” Yuuri began, but Victor cut him off.

“ _No_ , you didn’t. I know you would never - not unless I asked you to,” Victor said, and Yuuri blinked in surprise before Victor continued. “They’re just from falling, Yuuri. That’s all.” 

“Falling? You don’t…” Yuuri gaped at him.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” Victor gave him a wry smile. “Of _course_ I fall. Rather a lot, actually, when I’m out of practice. There’s no permanent damage. You know I wouldn’t have continued into the Nationals if there was any danger of that.”

Yuuri sighed, looking at the bruises again. He did know. He was more than familiar with the effects of crashing repeatedly into the ice. Still, to see those marks on Victor was shocking. “I guess I never thought about you falling before,” he admitted, a little sheepish. 

Victor chuckled, low. “I may be very good at what I do, but I’m still human. I want you of all people to be sure of that.” 

Yuuri trailed his fingers over Victor’s skin, carefully skirting the bruises this time. “You pushed yourself hard for this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I did,” Victor acknowledged. “Never _too_ hard, but I admit that I pushed myself right to the edge. Also, before you get any ideas, I did this to myself,” he added, tapping the tip of Yuuri’s nose with one finger. “Me and my pride and my impatience. There was no reason not to wait until next season, but…”

“Impatience?” Yuuri met Victor’s gaze, curious.

“I find I want to test my skating against yours just as much as you do, if not more,” Victor admitted. “I’m afraid I’m fond of you to the point of foolishness, my Yuuri.”

“Well, I knew that,” Yuuri murmured, and Victor laughed. “Just… _please_ take care of yourself. Remember, you promised Minako-sensei that you’d set a good example.”

“...I did, didn’t I.” Victor frowned, then laughed again. 

Yuuri bent to brush a kiss against Victor’s hair before scooting to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to order breakfast for us. Then we’re going to take a bath,” he said, firmly. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the bathroom has a deep soaking tub and we’re going to sit in it until we shrivel up.”

“I’d rather not _shrivel_ ,” Victor objected, but the cheerful glint in his eyes gave him away. “All right, my Yuuri. I’ll accept your tender loving care.” 

“Good,” Yuuri said, and reached for the room service menu. 

……………………

They ended up sharing an enjoyable breakfast in bed, with thick slabs of toast, scrambled eggs, and mixed fruit. When the food arrived, Yuuri made it halfway to the door before realizing they were both still pretty much naked from the night before - Yuuri completely, and Victor wearing his underwear and nothing else. That had resulted in a mad dash for a hotel bathrobe and Victor nearly falling out of the bed laughing. 

After they’d eaten, Yuuri slid out of bed, retrieving the breakfast tray and moving it to the side table. “You stay here,” he ordered, dropping a kiss on Victor’s forehead. “I’m going to go get the bath ready.” 

“I won’t move a muscle,” Victor promised, settling down into the pillows, looking positively indolent. Satisfied, Yuuri headed for the bathroom, putting the stopper in the soaking tub and turning the water on. The tub was big enough to hold them both at the same time, if only barely, but it wasn’t as if he and Victor minded being pressed close to each other. He tested the water temperature, then tore open the complimentary sachet of bath salts and shook it into the tub as well. 

“Where’s your shampoo and stuff?” he asked, emerging from the bathroom and kneeling to search through Victor’s suitcase. “Ah, found it.” 

“You’re spoiling me,” Victor said, sounding surprised. 

“Yes,” Yuuri replied, giving Victor a stubborn look. “Hang on.” He hurried into the bathroom again and swished the water around with one hand, making sure the bath salts had all dissolved. Once the water had filled the tub sufficiently, he turned off the tap and marched back into the bedroom. “It’s ready. Come on.” 

Victor slid out of bed, and Yuuri frowned as the last of the blankets fell away, revealing the full extent of Victor’s bruises. That wasn’t one fall or even two - that was repeated, a hard tattoo of mistakes laid down on Victor’s skin. Victor sighed at the look on Yuuri’s face. “I’m not going to break, Yuuri.”

“I know you’re not. I’m not going to let you,” Yuuri said firmly. 

Yuuri made Victor rinse off before he stepped into the tub. The warm bath water prompted a pleased sound from Victor as he settled himself. “It smells good. Like your hot spring, a little.” 

“Our hot spring is better,” Yuuri said automatically, then gave Victor a wry grin. “Well, it is. Here.” Yuuri took off his bathrobe and glasses before kneeling next to the tub and reaching for the wooden bucket. He still felt a bit sticky from yesterday’s exertions, but right now caring for Victor came first. Yuuri dipped the bucket into the bathwater, then carefully poured it over Victor’s head.

Victor let out a long breath. “Feels good,” he murmured, sinking a bit further into the water as Yuuri refilled and poured out the bucket once more. Victor’s eyes slowly closed again, lulled by the warm water and rising steam, and Yuuri resumed stroking his fingers through Victor’s hair. His Victor had worked so hard. They both had, but Victor’s journey had been more physically arduous. 

Yuuri shifted, moving to perch awkwardly on the edge of the tub, his back pressed against the tiles. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it gave him excellent access to Victor’s neck and shoulders. Victor practically melted as Yuuri started kneading at the stiff muscles, slowly working the tension out as best he could. “Mmm, Yuuri,” Victor sighed, rolling his shoulders back against Yuuri’s hands. “That’s enough. Come here.” 

Yuuri grinned and got to his feet, strangely proud of Victor’s relaxed, languid tone. “Just a second. I need to rinse off too,” he said, and Victor pouted as Yuuri made quick use of the shower beside the soaking tub, taking just long enough to scrub himself and rinse before shutting the water off again. 

Victor straightened up and pushed himself further back in the tub, and Yuuri carefully stepped in. As Yuuri sat down, the water level rose until the tub was nearly overflowing. Victor laughed and tugged at one of Yuuri’s shoulders, urging him to lean back. “We’re going to make a mess.”

“Not really. That’s why the shower drain is right there, just in case the tub overflows,” Yuuri said, relaxing against Victor with a contented sigh. The water was still pleasantly warm, and Victor gently folded his arms around Yuuri, holding him close. Their breathing steadied, flowed into time with each other. Victor lightly stroked one thumb over Yuuri’s stomach, the rhythm sweet and soothing.

After a few minutes of being pressed together like that, Yuuri slowly became aware that Victor was growing aroused, Victor’s cock half-hard between them. Yuuri made a questioning noise and shifted his weight just enough for Victor to shiver and let out a shaky breath. 

“Only if you want to, Yuuri,” Victor said after a moment. “I’ll be fine either way.” 

Yuuri shifted forward immediately, sending water sloshing over the side. He pushed himself onto his knees and turned to face Victor, taking in the pleased surprise on Victor’s face, the way Victor’s cheeks were flushed with heat and arousal, his silver hair slicked down and beaded with water at the tips. “I’m going to take care of you this time,” Yuuri informed him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Yuuri,” Victor began, but the name faded into a gasping breath as Yuuri’s fingers ghosted over his cock, the exact movements partially obscured by the water. Victor leaned his head back against the tile as Yuuri stroked him, coaxing him fully erect, and more water slopped out of the tub as Victor arched his hips into Yuuri’s touch. 

“You did so well, Victor,” Yuuri murmured, bending forward; they’d splashed enough water out that the head of Victor’s cock now broke the surface, and Yuuri licked at it, prompting Victor to make one of the more interesting sounds Yuuri had ever heard. Yuuri felt an answering throb of need in his own belly, but he pushed it away. _Not now. Now is for Victor._ The thought was steadying, increasing Yuuri’s resolve. Victor had given up so much for Yuuri’s sake - Yuuri _wanted_ to do this in return, to lavish affection on Victor and leave no doubt about how much Victor meant to him.

Yuuri nuzzled at the tip of Victor’s cock, then licked again, pressing his tongue against the underside. He’d actually never done this before, but Victor had gotten him off this way, and Yuuri was nothing if not a good student. Victor, for his part, was easy to read, making little desperate sounds of pleasure. Yuuri pressed wet kisses to the head of Victor’s cock, stroking him with both hands, making mental notes on what prompted the strongest reactions. 

“Yuuri,” Victor moaned, slipping a bit lower in the tub, “ _god_ , Yuuri, _please-_ ” His hips were rocking in earnest now, thrusting up into Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri abandoned the kisses and licks and focused on the movement of his hands, slipping into the rhythm he knew Victor liked best. After a few moments of that dedicated attention, Victor cried out and arched under him, coming in a sudden rush that left Yuuri absolutely breathless. Victor’s panting echoed through the bathroom, and Yuuri couldn’t tear his gaze away as his fiancé slumped back against the tub, spent. 

After a moment, Victor’s panting resolved into words. “Yuuri, my Yuuri, I love you, come here,” and Yuuri curled against him, settling into Victor’s trembling embrace. Victor stroked at Yuuri’s hair, murmuring fragmented endearments against his skin. “So good, Yuuri, _perfect_ , never leaving again, never-” 

Yuuri shushed him with a gentle kiss. “I know,” he said softly, cupping Victor’s cheek with one hand. 

They lay there for several more minutes before Victor opened his eyes, squinting at their surroundings. Then he started to laugh, the sound a warm rumble in his chest. “The water went away,” Victor said, and Yuuri blinked. He was right. They had sloshed a good two-thirds of the water right out of the tub. 

“You were, um, very enthusiastic,” Yuuri said, and Victor laughed again. 

“And you were very, _very_ good,” Victor said, giving Yuuri a sated, pleased smile. “Are you sure I can’t return the favor?” he added, glancing down at Yuuri’s own half-hard cock. 

Yuuri kissed him. “Later,” he said, pulling himself away from Victor just enough to turn the faucet on again, sending warm water spilling over their feet. “Now we get cleaned up. And then you take a nap.” 

“As my Yuuri commands,” Victor said, smiling and tugging Yuuri back into his arms. 

……………………

They stayed in bed for a ridiculously long time, dozing, touching, talking about everything and nothing. Soft snow flurries were falling outside, casting a quiet hush over their surroundings. It was lazy, indolent, and exactly what Yuuri needed after so much relentless hard work. They hadn’t had anything like this since well before the Grand Prix Final, which felt like a lifetime ago. 

Victor was going through the details of his free skate choreography when the phone rang - not Yuuri’s phone, but Victor’s. Victor sat up immediately, grabbing the phone off the nightstand and answering it without looking at the number. “Hello? _Moshi moshi?_ ” he said, to Yuuri’s amusement. “Ah! Of course! It’s for you, Yuuri~” 

Surprised, Yuuri took the phone automatically. “Um. Hello?” he said carefully, in English. 

“There you are,” came the response, in Japanese. “For heaven’s sake, Yuuri. My next step was going to be banging on your hotel room door regardless of what the two of you might be up to in there.” 

“Mari-neechan?” Yuuri sat up too, then blushed sharply at the mention of being up to things. She wasn’t wrong given the bath they’d shared earlier, but that didn’t mean he wanted Mari to know about it. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. But your phone is off, or out of battery, or something,” Mari huffed. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back to me all afternoon. Minako had Victor’s number, so I tried that. I figured you two would be together.” 

“Wait, what?” Yuuri reached for his own phone, confused, then groaned as the lock screen came up. “I put it in airplane mode before my free skate yesterday…” 

“...and then Victor showed up right after, and everything else flew out of your head,” Mari sighed, though there was a thread of amusement in her tone. “I can’t believe I had to call _Russia_ to finally reach you.” 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m fixing it right now!” Yuuri unlocked his phone and switched off airplane mode, then jumped as the phone practically exploded with notifications. “...Um.” 

“I’m guessing I wasn’t the only one leaving messages for you.” Yes, Mari was definitely amused. “Well, in any case, we’re going to head out to the beer garden tonight. You’re welcome to join us if you want to, of course, though we figured you’d probably rather spend the evening alone. I just wanted to pass on the invitation in case you were interested.”

“Um.” Yuuri glanced quickly at Victor. “I think… yeah, alone, probably. For now. But thank you, Mari-neechan.” Yuuri paused. “Wait, the beer garden? But Minako-sensei’s snoring…”

“Oh, I’m prepared this time,” Mari said, and Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should be worried or not. “You two have a nice evening, okay?” 

“We will,” Yuuri smiled. “You too.” 

Yuuri handed Victor’s phone back to him; Victor was trying to hold back laughter. “What was that about?” 

“I put my phone on airplane mode before my free skate and, well… you’re too distracting.” Yuuri poked Victor’s side meaningfully. “But Mari-neechan and Minako-sensei are going out tonight. They said we could join them if we wanted to, but…”

“...I’m terribly selfish and I want you all to myself,” Victor finished, grinning.

“That, except _I’m_ the one who’s terribly selfish and wants _you_ all to myself,” Yuuri said firmly, fighting a blush and mostly winning. Mostly.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.” Victor’s smile turned soft, indulgent. “Any particular plans?” 

“Mmm. I’ll think of something.” Yuuri’s phone buzzed again, and he sighed. “After I make this thing shut up, anyway.” He nuzzled at Victor’s shoulder before settling back against the pillows, squinting at his phone. That was a lot of messages. Texts, news alerts, those missed calls from Mari, seventy new e-mails… 

“Wow,” Victor said, peering at Yuuri’s phone over his shoulder.

“I’m guessing most of these are your fault.” Yuuri went for the news alerts first. The vast majority were variations on the theme of _Victor Nikiforov Arrives in Japan for Yuuri Katsuki’s Free Skate_. The absurdity of the whole thing struck Yuuri anew - he’d spent so long idolizing Victor, and now Victor, the exact same Victor he’d adored for years, was idly looking over his shoulder as they cuddled in bed.

How on earth had he pulled that off? 

“You have my name listed as an alert,” Victor said, amused. 

“Yeah, well, I was your fan for a long time,” Yuuri mumbled, quickly flicking through the notifications. 

“Was? Are you not my fan anymore, Yuuri?” Victor pouted, draping one arm over Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“Yes! I mean… no, I mean… it’s complicated?” Yuuri made a face, thinking. “I love watching you on the ice. I’ve always loved that, and I probably always will… just, now I love a lot more than just your skating,” he said, at last, hoping he didn’t sound foolish. 

Victor ruffled Yuuri’s hair. “I like that. _Love_ that. It can be lonely, always being put on top of a pedestal.” There was a wistfulness to Victor’s words for a moment, but then he chuckled and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “I’ll always be grateful to you for pulling me down from there in Sochi.” 

“I was drunk,” Yuuri muttered, but he laughed as Victor kissed him again, and again, a peppering of kisses landing everywhere Victor could reach. “Hey!” 

“That might be true, but even then you were - and are - exactly what I needed.” The last kiss captured Yuuri’s lips, slow and sweet. Victor sighed happily as he pulled back, nestling against Yuuri’s side again, radiating contentment. “What about your texts? I admit, I really want to know what your friends are saying.” 

“Oh! Nishigori wanted me to tell you that you owe him,” Yuuri said, grinning as he swapped over to his text messages. “I guess Yuu-chan and the triplets exploded after your free skate.”

“The _world_ exploded,” Victor said, sounding smug. “But noted.” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then started paging through the texts. “Hmm. Phichit… wants to know if we’re getting married now since I won gold.” Yuuri’s cheeks turned bright red. 

“An interesting thought,” Victor mused, but when Yuuri tensed Victor leaned against him more firmly. “Not until we’re both ready, my Yuuri. Don’t worry.” 

Yuuri relaxed instantly, giving Victor a wry smile before returning to the text messages. “Yuu-chan says she’s happy for us… oh, huh. She says she passed on a message to Yurio? To see if he wanted to join us in Hasetsu for New Years.” 

“Did she!” Victor immediately unlocked his own phone, tapping rapidly at the screen. “Let’s see…” 

Yuuri kept scrolling, leaving Yurio to Victor for now. Some of the texts were from acquaintances in Hasetsu, some from more distant family members he didn’t typically hear from, but even if they didn’t understand figure skating, they definitely understood an engagement announcement. “Everyone seems happy so far,” Yuuri said quietly, pleased. Then he frowned. “Wait, I don’t recognize the number on this one… it says I’m a lucky bastard?”

Victor peered at the screen. “Ah. Chris. Don’t worry, that means he’s happy too.”

“Chris? How did he even get my number?” Victor’s silence was conspicuous, and Yuuri shook his head. He started picking through his incoming e-mail as Victor continued texting next to him. More well-wishes, an effusive fan club e-mail that made him blush again, half a dozen interview requests… 

“Perfect!” Victor said suddenly, and Yuuri glanced back at him; a moment later, Victor stuck his phone in Yuuri’s face. Yuuri squinted at the cyrillic characters, incongruously interspersed with Japanese emoji. “Yurio’s going to come,” Victor said brightly, running the tip of one finger under the texts. “See, this one, he says his name isn’t Yurio… that he wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with me and my katsudon… but he might visit Yuuko during that time so I have to promise not to be disgusting. This will be fun!”

Yuuri smothered a laugh. Victor’s mischievous expression didn’t bode well for Yurio on the not-being-disgusting front. “It will be,” he agreed, feeling oddly gratified at the idea. He hadn’t expected to ever see the younger Yuri back in Hasetsu again, even though Yuuko had kept in touch with him. “And then we’ll all go back to St. Petersburg, I guess. Huh.” 

“Ahh, I can’t wait to have my Yuuri in my bed,” Victor beamed, shrugging one arm over Yuuri’s shoulders and pulling him close. “And at my table, and in my bathtub, and at my rink~ it’s like a dream come true!” 

Victor looked so starry-eyed that Yuuri giggled, half embarrassed, half amazed that he could prompt that kind of excitement out of Victor. “I’m excited too,” Yuuri said quietly. “I want to see everything you love.”

Victor gestured extravagantly at Yuuri with his free hand. “Behold!” 

“Oh, come on,” Yuuri sighed, playfully shoving at Victor’s chest. “I meant about the city. I know little bits of things from interviews with you, but… I want you to show me.” Yuuri could see the magazine articles laid out in his mind’s eye, smiling Victor framed by interesting facts and trivia about his life. The need to have every fact overwritten by personal experience was so sudden and so intense that it made Yuuri’s throat tighten. 

“I want to know _everything_ ,” Yuuri said, and Victor made a pleased sound that made Yuuri fear Victor misunderstood, thinking he’d been talking purely about physical intimacy. Yuuri straightened, tilting Victor’s chin so that their gazes met directly. “No, not just that - more like what you said earlier, about pedestals,” he said quickly, and Victor fell silent, focusing on Yuuri. “I know a lot about you… or I think I do, anyway, but too much of it comes from chasing you for years. I want to think about why I know something and never once think about where I read it. I want to know your favorite restaurant because you took me there. I want to recognize the shampoo you use because I smelled it on you.” He could feel himself turning red again, but that didn’t matter - all that mattered was for him to somehow convey the enormity of what he wanted, for Victor to understand. “I want to crush that pedestal into pieces.”

Yuuri stopped talking, feeling vaguely dizzy, like he’d tried to launch into a program without warming up properly. “Oh, my Yuuri,” Victor breathed, leaning to press his forehead against Yuuri’s own. “Of course. Everything I have is yours. That’s what these mean, you know.” Victor tangled the fingers of his right hand with Yuuri’s, so that their rings gleamed together, side by side. 

Yuuri heaved a sigh of relief. “So that made sense. Good. Thank you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough so that he could look down at their entwined fingers. The contact anchored him, as did the sight of their rings, just as he’d hoped. 

Victor chuckled gently. “All I ask is that you do the same for me, my Yuuri. Some of us didn’t have the benefit of years of articles, though I suppose I could look some up…” Yuuri blinked, but Victor just smiled and shook his head. “Though knowing you, what’s there is only surface-deep, isn’t it?”

Yuuri frowned. “The fact that you know that is a good sign, actually,” he muttered.

Victor’s smile widened, and Yuuri couldn’t help but grin back. “So things you wouldn’t know from a magazine? Hmm…” Victor looked thoughtful, though his eyes were still bright with mischief. “Once, when I was just starting out in national competition, I thought it might be fun to dye my hair blue to match my short program costume. I ended up with stains on my face, my arms were blue up to the elbows, and the bathtub… oh, Yakov was so angry.” 

Yuuri stared, then burst out laughing, picturing it. “Really?” 

“Really,” Victor assured him. 

Yuuri leaned in and kissed Victor firmly. Victor made a pleased sound against his lips. 

“-so that’s what you wanted, then,” Victor said once Yuuri gave him the space to speak. 

“That, and St. Petersburg,” Yuuri said, and Victor laughed, delighted. 

“Only the entire city! First Barcelona, now this. Very well, my _very demanding_ Yuuri - and no, you don’t get to take it back,” Victor added, pressing a kiss to the tip of Yuuri’s nose. “Now that I know what you want, I’m going to see it through to the end. I’m warning you, though, I’m a very interesting person. I’m afraid you may want to book the next… hmm... rest of your life.” 

“I think I can manage that,” Yuuri said, grinning so broadly that his cheeks hurt.

“Well, then. St. Petersburg for you… but, as we’re not there yet, could I beg a little bit of Sapporo for me? Surely I’m entitled to some sightseeing after Barcelona.” Victor gave Yuuri a patently ridiculous pleading look. 

Yuuri chuckled. “Okay. Dinner? Anything else? I’m afraid it’s getting a little late for sightseeing, but...”

“Definitely dinner,” Victor said enthusiastically. “And after that… whatever we want. A walk, perhaps?”

“If you’re up for it, sure,” Yuuri said, smiling and leaning back against the pillows once more. “I’ll research?” 

“Perfect.” Victor squeezed their joined hands one more time. 

……………………

They ended up in a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant not too far from the hotel, enjoying what Yuuri had to admit was the best miso ramen he’d ever tasted - the ramen he’d had at the hotel paled in comparison. Victor proclaimed everything he ate _vkusno!_ and insisted on Yuuri translating his effusive praises to the bemused staff. 

Afterwards, warmed both by the ramen and a little beer, they walked idly through Makomanai Park, snow crunching under their boots. The flurries from earlier had given way to a beautiful clear evening, crisp and cold, the dusting of fresh snow making everything soft. More than that, the combined stress of the Nationals and Victor’s absence had been lifted from Yuuri’s shoulders, leaving him free to appreciate their surroundings without worry. Maybe that was what made the snow seem silvered, the stars particularly brilliant even in the city - or maybe it was Victor’s gloved hand in his, everything that much brighter for being shared. 

“Don’t they have a winter festival of some kind here?” Victor mused, looking around as if said festival might appear out of thin air at any moment.

“They do, but it’s not until February.”

Victor frowned. “Too bad. Take me some time, Yuuri?” 

“Maybe when we’re both retired,” Yuuri said, chuckling and squeezing Victor’s hand. “I think we’re going to be a little busy this February.”

“And every February after that until you retire, yes,” Victor agreed, giving Yuuri a sidelong grin. “I intend to coach you to the Four Continents as many times as we can manage.”

“...That’s the next step, isn’t it,” Yuuri realized. “For me, I mean. And Euros for you.” 

“Fortunately, those aren’t at the same time. I may have to insist that you follow me to Slovakia for the occasion. This was manageable, but I’d rather not repeat it unless we have no choice.” Victor squeezed his hand tightly in return. 

“Agreed,” Yuuri said, letting out a long breath. He grinned at Victor, happy that their thoughts were aligned. “Did you get the tickets for tomorrow changed?”

“Ah, yes - they got back to me while you were in the bathroom at the restaurant, actually,” Victor said. “I can’t believe you were going to leave right after the exhibition.” 

“Well, I thought I had to get back to Hasetsu to meet someone.” Yuuri elbowed Victor lightly. 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry for messing up your plans.” Victor winked at him, then continued. “So yes, our new flight leaves on the morning of the 29th so we can both get our beauty sleep, and _no_ , I did not buy first class, though if you think you’re getting flown home to St. Petersburg in anything less, you are sadly mistaken.” Victor released Yuuri’s hand and took a few steps ahead, pivoting on one foot in a cheerful twirl reminiscent of a skating spin. 

Yuuri mock-scowled at him, then grinned. “Since it’s you taking me, I accept. Thank you.” 

“Good. You’re welcome.” Victor twirled again, pleased. “And the exhibition is in the evening, yes?”

“It starts at five,” Yuuri said, stretching his arms up over his head for a moment before reaching to recapture Victor’s hand in his. “We can sleep in again if you want.” 

“Well, I should warm up at least a bit.” Victor took a step off the path, his feet sinking into the snow, and he tugged Yuuri along with him. “It’s been an entire two days since the last time I skated. My skills might have atrophied horrendously.” 

“You want to skate in the exhibition too?” Yuuri blinked as he followed Victor into the drifts, stumbling a bit in his wake. “I mean, you can, I just wasn’t expecting...” 

“And here I thought you’d seen the costume in my bag when you went through it this morning,” Victor said, sighing dramatically. “I could have surprised you on the ice… ah, well. I wouldn’t mind surprising everyone else, but I suppose they’ll be expecting it this time.” 

“Probably, given that everyone in the world saw your press conference, and half of them saw you show up after my free skate,” Yuuri said wryly, smiling at him. 

“Ah, well. It was worth it,” Victor proclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of a wide, fluffy snowdrift. “Just have to make sure my exhausted, battered body can handle the rigors of our duet-” Without warning, Victor’s hands were on Yuuri’s hips, lifting him up; Yuuri squawked, but his body knew how to respond to the movement, even though Victor’s grip felt a little skewed with the layers of winter clothing between them. For a moment, Yuuri was breathless, suspended over perfect, undisturbed snow.

Then Victor unceremoniously dumped him on his ass, right into said snow.

Not _dropped_ him - it was far more deliberate than that, his descent still under Victor’s control despite the unorthodox landing. Yuuri spluttered as he sank into the snowbank, flailing a bit. “Victor!” 

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist. I’m Russian!” Victor giggled, as if that was a reasonable excuse.

Yuuri scrambled to his feet, laughing too despite the brief jolt of adrenaline. “What does you being Russian have to do with anything?” 

“We’re good with snow?” Victor began, then made a surprised noise as Yuuri’s retaliatory snowball smacked into his side. “Oh, that’s how it is, is it?”

“You started it, Nikiforov,” Yuuri said, quickly scooping up another snowball. He ducked automatically as Victor returned fire, only for Victor’s snowball to miss him by at least a meter. He turned back to Victor, one eyebrow raised. “What was that?”

“Your second lesson in Unpublished Victor Facts: my aim is terrible,” Victor said sadly, bowing his head. “At least when it comes to throwing things.” 

“Huh.” Yuuri considered this. “Mine’s pretty good, actually.”

Victor yelped as Yuuri’s second snowball hit him in the upper chest, spraying his face with snow. “That’s not fair!”

“And you dropping me out of a lift into a snowbank _is?!_ ” 

By the end of it, a fair expanse of snow had been trampled, and they were laying side by side on their backs, covered with snow and laughing. “I haven’t done anything like this in years,” Victor said, grinning, his cheeks flushed. “Not since Yurio got too serious. And he got serious very young.” 

“Really? Too serious for snowball fights?” 

“...no, I mean he took the fights too seriously. I got _bruises_ , Yuuri.” 

Yuuri laughed and rolled over to fetch up against Victor’s side. They were technically in a public space, but nobody was around, and their snowball fight had pressed the snow into a slow rise around them. Everything felt peaceful, as if the world’s focus was elsewhere, leaving the two of them to just _be_. “So… the exhibition tomorrow, then? I don’t think I ever got a clear answer on that. Unless dropping someone into snow has a hidden meaning in Russia?” 

“Oh, it means yes, of course. It also means that the person who dropped you loves you very much, at least when the people involved are Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor said immediately, turning his head to nuzzle at Yuuri before making a face. “My ear is cold.” 

Yuuri gave him an unimpressed look. “Maybe you should have thought about that first.” 

“Hmm… no.” Victor smiled brightly. “If I'm cold, you’ll have to warm me up. And this time there’s no Chris to tag along.” 

Yuuri covered his face with one hand at the memory. “That was… interesting.” 

“I assure you that I can be equally interesting. Moreso, actually.”

There was a soft crunch of snow as Victor got to his feet, and a moment later Yuuri found himself being lifted into the air for the second time in an hour, this time in what amounted to a princess carry. “Hey! No more tossing me into the snow,” Yuuri protested, kicking his feet a little. 

“No, no more snow,” Victor agreed, grinning down at him. “Warming up sounds like a very good idea. This morning, you said I could return the favor? I’d like to take you up on that, if you’re interested.” 

Yuuri let out a low breath, remembering. In the bathtub, yes… he had said that, and the memory reawakened the slow burn that he’d pushed away in favor of tending to Victor’s needs. “Um. Yes. But not in the snow.” 

Victor laughed aloud. “Good lord, no, not in the snow. What an awful thought.” He nuzzled at Yuuri’s forehead before slogging back out towards the footpath, still carrying Yuuri in his arms. “Not when we have a perfectly good hotel room available.” 

“Just making sure,” Yuuri said, making his tone as dry as possible before laughing again. 

“Oh, don’t worry, my frozen katsudon. I’m going to take very good care of you.” Victor gently set Yuuri down on the path. “After all, I’ve had lots of time to think about choreography lately,” he added, lowering his voice seductively.

Yuuri made a face at him. “Don’t say that. Not unless you want me thinking about my free leg in bed.”

“Gestural components?” Victor suggested, all innocence, and Yuuri swallowed an embarrassingly loud bark of laughter before flinging a loose handful of snow in Victor’s direction. “Oh! Rotations!”

“ _Victor,_ ” Yuuri spluttered. 

“What do you suppose is the bedroom equivalent of a quadruple flip?” 

“...if you ask me for a score afterwards, I’m going to put you out in the hallway and lock the door.”

Victor laughed and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, pressing his nose against the back of Yuuri’s neck as best he could, given that Yuuri was wearing a scarf. Yuuri stopped walking, partially because of Victor’s grip on him, and partially because Victor had evidently decided the scarf was in the way, and was tugging at it with his teeth to move it. Victor’s breath was shockingly warm, sending a shiver down Yuuri’s spine. “Oh, my Yuuri, you _delight_ me,” Victor murmured, and Yuuri inhaled sharply as Victor’s tongue brushed over the fine hairs on the back of his neck.

Then Yuuri twisted himself out of Victor’s embrace and grabbed both of Victor’s hands in his, practically towing him back towards the hotel at the fastest speed he could reasonably manage without outright running. “So eager, Yuuri!” Victor beamed, letting Yuuri drag him along. “But don’t forget, I get to take care of you this time.”

“Not if I get there first,” Yuuri muttered, jaw set in determination.

“Wow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... evidently as soon as I get these idiots in the same place again, the word count balloons. Another 6k+ chapter... well, I'm just going to roll with it! Some notes for this chapter:
> 
> \- If you've never gotten to enjoy a Japanese-style deep soaking tub, I thoroughly recommend it! I posted a [picture of the tub setup](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com/post/157364837542/example-of-a-japanese-style-deep-soaking-tub-this) on my tumblr, since I basically stole the whole thing from a real hotel that I've stayed in a few times. 
> 
> \- The breakfast Yuuri and Victor share is typical for a Western-style meal served in a Japanese hotel. That thicker-cut toast is very good and I want some now. 
> 
> \- The Sapporo Beer Garden is a real place, and popular for tourists to visit. I have no idea what Mari's nefarious plan is regarding Minako's drunken snoring, but it's probably ruthless. 
> 
> \- Miso ramen is a specialty of Sapporo! Yuuri already had some miso ramen on this trip, the night of Victor's free skate, but Victor hadn't gotten any yet. We must think of Victor and his need to Try All The Things. 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments last chapter! My move went well, and while we haven't completely settled in yet, we are definitely getting things set up and unpacking our millions of boxes. Even if I wasn't responding immediately, your words did reach me and provided much-needed moments of happiness in the midst of stress. :) As always, I love chatting with you and sharing this story with you! Your happiness is and shall ever be my fuel.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you want to yell about YoI with me on tumblr, you can find me at [chisotahn.tumblr.com](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com).
> 
> Next stop: Hasetsu!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content near the end of this chapter! If you'd prefer to skip that sequence you can stop at _"Well. Maybe we should test that."_ and resume at _They collapsed against each other_. Do what works best for you!

Their last day in Sapporo seemed to fly by, as if trying to make up for the slow, lazy relaxation of the day before. Minako and Mari checked out and headed to the airport that morning, as planned; Mari mussed Yuuri’s hair before they left, ordering him not to waste too much time before coming home to help with the new year’s cleaning. There were seemingly endless strings of interviews and meetings with prospective sponsors.

And there were the practice sessions before the exhibition, changed by Victor being on the ice with Yuuri instead of behind the barrier. At the Grand Prix Final, Victor hadn’t skated in the public practice to keep his appearance in Yuuri’s exhibition skate a surprise. This time there was no need for pretense, and the two of them exchanged increasingly flirtatious glances and smiles as they warmed up. After the warm-up was over, Victor practically dragged Yuuri to an empty hallway before pressing him up against a wall and kissing him soundly.

“You’re a liability, my Yuuri,” Victor informed him, breathless, as the muffled notes of someone else’s exhibition skate thumped in the distance. “Promise me you won’t distract me like that before a competition we’re both in. Sabotage isn’t allowed.” 

“You should have thought of that before making your comeback during my _Eros_ season,” Yuuri muttered, and Victor looked stricken before laughing. 

Their performance together was all sweetness and grace, and Yuuri knew as he began to skate that this routine had changed as well. The beginning was no longer that high and wistful loneliness, searching desperately for a companion. Instead, it was filled with eagerness, the steady certainty that they would be reunited soon. Yuuri couldn’t keep from smiling as the music swelled towards Victor’s appearance, and he knew he turned towards Victor a little too early, anticipating. 

It didn’t matter. Not one bit. 

………………………

Yuuri’s return to Hasetsu after the Nationals could not have been more different than the previous year. Last year, he’d been numbed by failure, letting Celestino guide him through the airport and onto the interminable flight back to America. Detroit had felt empty, too, filled with constant reminders of what he couldn’t do, which was bad, or what he could do but hadn’t, which was worse. And he’d given up.

But this year? 

_“Onegai shimasu!”_ Victor yelled in the direction of the train to Hasetsu, earning him multiple confused looks. Fortunately, the conductor seemed to either understand what Victor actually wanted or was sufficiently curious about the tall foreigner to hold the train back just long enough. Either way, they made it on the train before the doors closed. Victor bowed to the conductor in thanks while Yuuri tried to catch his breath, the back of his legs smarting from trying to run too fast with a rolling suitcase in tow. 

“There,” Victor said, sitting down with a bright, smug grin. “I told you we’d make it.” 

“We could’ve just waited for the next one,” Yuuri managed, taking the seat next to Victor. 

“Yes, but this way we get there that much sooner. I’d like to have a bit of time with you before Yurio descends on us.” Victor combed his silver bangs back into place. 

Yuuri had to admit that wasn’t a bad idea. He’d traveled enough to not be particularly bothered by it, but there were a lot of people going home or to various New Years celebrations today. The airports and their flight had been full, and the station had been a madhouse. He was vaguely surprised there’d been empty seats on the train at all. “When does his flight come in, again?”

“A bit past noon, I think. Yuuko’s picking him up, yes? So maybe… one, two o’clock?” 

“Somewhere around there.” Yuuri closed his eyes and leaned against Victor just a little bit, enough to be comforting without being too obvious. Yuuko had offered to pick them up too, but Yuuri had demurred, not wanting to make a fuss. Now, he kind of wished he’d taken her up on the offer. At least the train was fairly quiet, with only a few people making low conversation. The swaying motion was soothing too, as was the familiarity of the route. 

Yuuri could almost have fallen asleep, except that Victor kept making noise.

It was nothing big - just soft muttering under his breath, barely audible, but it was unusual enough to attract and hold Yuuri’s attention. He couldn’t quite tell what Victor was saying, if anything. “Is something going on?” Yuuri said, after a few minutes, and Victor tensed. 

“No, not at all,” Victor said, his tone bright enough to increase Yuuri’s suspicions.

“Really?” Yuuri asked, sitting up a bit and letting some of that suspicion bleed into his tone. 

“When did you become so perceptive?” Victor murmured, brushing a finger against Yuuri’s cheek. 

“You don’t usually mutter under your breath, and you feel kind of tense.” Yuuri pressed against Victor a little more. 

Victor sighed. “And I thought I was inscrutable. Well, then.” He rested one hand on Yuuri’s knee and squeezed gently. “Nothing is going on, not really. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Nervous? About what?” 

“Well… we’re going to see your parents,” Victor said, leaning in towards Yuuri for privacy. “I imagine this must have seemed very sudden to them. This is the first time I’ll be seeing them after our engagement. They’re my future in-laws, Yuuri. I want to do this right.” 

Relief washed over Yuuri. He smiled, briefly resting one hand on top of Victor’s. “I already asked them, remember? They gave us their blessing. They think you’re wonderful, Victor. Don’t worry.” 

“I know, but still. This is _my_ first time back here after everything, even if it’s not yours,” Victor said, his smile a little lopsided. “I have a few things I wanted to say. I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now.” He hesitated for a moment, then pulled his phone out of his coat pocket. “I’d intended this to be a surprise for you, but I think I could use your advice.” He offered the phone to Yuuri, a translation app visible on the screen.

Yuuri took in the English words, the Japanese characters and the pronunciation guide below. _Oh._ Victor wanted to talk to his parents in their native language. There was something piercingly sweet about that. “Victor…”

“Is it inappropriate? I can say something else,” Victor said quickly.

“No! It’s perfect,” Yuuri said softly, leaning against his fiancé. “Let me just change the Japanese a little bit. The automatic translation isn’t bad, but…” Yuuri tapped at the screen, then nodded as the pronunciation guide updated to reflect his modifications. “Here, this is better.” As he handed the phone back to Victor, Yuuri felt his cheeks warm; not embarrassment this time, but pure fondness. 

Victor mouthed the syllables under his breath - so that’s what he’d been doing earlier. “Thank you,” he said, grinning sheepishly at Yuuri. “I should have asked you sooner. I was just stuck on it being a surprise.” 

“You don’t have to surprise everyone with everything,” Yuuri said, nudging him. 

Victor chuckled. “Old habits are hard to break. But noted.”

They worked on Victor’s ‘speech’ the rest of the way to Hasetsu, with Yuuri correcting Victor’s pronunciation. Victor was determined to memorize it, though Yuuri insisted that he keep the translation available just in case. Victor’s nervousness seemed to ease, and as the train came to a stop at Hasetsu Station he made it through a complete run-through without any mistakes.

“Perfect,” Yuuri said as he got to his feet, hefting his backpack and grabbing his suitcase. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

“You don’t want to know how long it took me to write the English part,” Victor sighed, giving Yuuri an almost shy smile as they stepped off the train. Yuuri took a deep breath, smiling too as he caught the hint of sea salt in the air underneath the typical station smells. _Home._ At least for now.

“Oh!” Victor’s face lit up, and he headed down the platform towards the escalator at a fast walk, making Yuuri scramble to catch up with him. “Did they update - they _did!”_

Oh dear. The posters. It had to be the posters. Yuuri had just barely gotten used to the concept of there being posters of him in Hasetsu Station, though he still preferred to walk quickly past them. Victor, on the other hand, preferred to linger, particularly when there was something new. 

“Look, Yuuri!” Victor gushed, stumbling off the end of the escalator.

When Yuuri had left for Nationals, the poster display had been a combination of _congratulations on winning silver at the Grand Prix Final_ and _good luck at Japanese Nationals!_ Now, someone had updated it with a picture from Nationals: Yuuri atop the podium, gold medal in hand, the gleam of his ring matching the medal’s shine. _Congratulations, Japan’s Top Skater, Katsuki Yuuri!_

“They work fast,” Yuuri said, trying to decide whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Both, probably.

Victor pulled out his phone and took a selfie in front of the display. “I want one!” 

“I keep telling you they’re not for sale,” Yuuri managed, before someone went ah! in their direction and the congratulations began.

At least this time, Yuuri felt prepared for it. There was no chance of him getting back to Yu-topia without being recognized, particularly not with Victor there. Victor was only too happy to personally greet every single person in Hasetsu on a normal day, and Victor overflowing with pride over both Yuuri’s gold medal win and their engagement announcement was a whole new level of intensity. Yuuri was content to let Victor run the show, interjecting to translate as needed. 

They made their way through Hasetsu slowly, pausing every so often to respond to greetings and well-wishes, some from unlikely sources. “Fujita-san doesn’t even like me,” Yuuri whispered to Victor after one of the town’s venerable elders offered surprisingly enthusiastic congratulations. 

“Really? He’s always been kind to me,” Victor whispered back, waving at the old man as they continued down the sidewalk. 

“Also, he doesn’t speak English. At all. How did you…?”

Victor grinned at him. “Some things are universal.” 

Yuuri just sighed and shook his head. He wondered if St. Petersburg would be like this, too; if they’d head to the rink each morning with Victor practically dancing through the strangely cheerful populace, every one of whom Victor somehow knew by name. 

Still, as they got closer to the inn, Yuuri could see Victor getting a little tense again. Yuuri put one hand on Victor’s shoulder as they entered the inn courtyard. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, giving Victor a gentle smile that he hoped was encouraging. “We’ll be fine.”

“I like that _we,”_ Victor replied, smiling back at him.

Yuuri took a deep breath and slid the front door open, stepping inside and tugging his suitcase over the threshold. Victor followed suit, closing the door behind them. “We’re back!” Yuuri called out in Japanese, and any response was inaudible under eager barking and the scramble of paws on wood. Makkachin skidded around the corner, his ears lifting as he caught sight of Yuuri and Victor. 

“Makkachin!” Victor said, dropping to one knee and holding his arms out for the poodle. Makkachin leapt into Victor’s embrace, and Victor toppled backwards, laughing and cooing endearments in Russian. 

“Yuuri, Vicchan, welcome back!” Hiroko arrived much more sedately than Makkachin had, though her bright smile made it clear that she was also very happy to see them both. “Hurry up, dear, they’re here!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” came the response from Yuuri’s father. Victor surged to his feet. Makkachin grumbled at being abandoned so quickly and sidled over to lean against Yuuri instead. 

The instant Toshiya rounded the corner, Victor stepped forward, standing before the two of them as if before a judge. “What’s happening?” Toshiya asked, obviously befuddled by Victor’s sudden seriousness. 

Victor took a deep breath. “I thank you for your kindness towards me,” he said in halting Japanese; Yuuri’s parents exchanged surprised looks. “You took care of me like one of your own family members. Now I…” Victor paused, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment before continuing. “...I would like to ask if I can be a part of your family. Will you allow me to marry your son?” 

Yuuri smiled so broadly that his cheeks hurt - he couldn’t help it, glancing between Victor, standing so tall and serious, and his parents, their eyes lighting up as they took in Victor’s words. 

Hiroko covered her mouth with one hand. “He’s so cute, Yuuri!” she laughed before turning to Victor. “Vicchan, you’ve been part of this family for months,” she continued, looking up at Victor, who seemed concerned that nothing she was saying was an easily-recognizable ‘yes’ or ‘no’. “We’re both so happy to welcome you as our son.” Toshiya nodded firmly.

“They say that you’re their son, too,” Yuuri translated, unable to stop smiling, and all the tension left Victor in a rush. 

“Thank you very much!” Victor said in English, bowing deeply to both of Yuuri’s parents. _“Arigato gozaimasu!”_

Yuuri stepped forward to stand at Victor’s side. “Thank you,” he said in Japanese, giving his parents a shy smile. “He’s very happy.” 

“I don’t need a translation to know that,” Hiroko laughed, reaching out to embrace Yuuri. “Well done, Yuuri,” she said gently. Then she released him and looked expectantly at Victor, opening her arms. 

Victor beamed and stepped into the hug, responding so enthusiastically that Hiroko’s feet left the ground a little bit, much to her delight. Toshiya was next, holding one hand out to Victor and getting a solemn, firm handshake in return. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise,” Victor said, and Yuuri quickly translated for his parents’ benefit. 

“You always have,” Hiroko said, wiping a tear away with one hand. 

The sound of a door slamming in the distance startled them all; Makkachin scrambled to his feet and barked. “I’m back!” came Mari’s voice. “Can I get some help with all this?” 

“Welcome back,” Yuuri called out.

There was the sound of rapid footsteps approaching, and Mari rounded the corner a moment later. “Yuuri, you’re back- wait, did I miss something?” she said, scowling at the group. Makkachin padded up to her, tail wagging. 

“Not much. Just Victor asking for my hand in marriage,” Yuuri said, as casually as he could.

Mari folded her arms and looked sharply at Victor. “If you’re going to be part of this family, that means you have to help me carry in the groceries,” she said, in English. 

“Oh?” Victor laughed. “That sounds fair.”

“Good. Meet me around the back. You too, Yuuri,” Mari added, pivoting on one foot and heading for the back, Makkachin following in her wake. 

“I’m guessing that means she approves?” Victor said, amused. 

“She’s treating you like a little brother, so yes.” Yuuri grinned. It had been so effortless. He would have to thank his parents later, and Mari too. “Come on. Let’s get those groceries taken care of.” 

………………………

Yuuri had been expecting to go directly from groceries into other chores, so he was surprised when Mari shooed them both away once the groceries were stacked on the kitchen counter. “Go take your bags upstairs and rest some, you two,” she said in English, gesturing for emphasis. “I think you want that before Yurio gets here, yes?”

“Ah, your sister is wise,” Victor said, offering her a half-bow.

Mari arched one eyebrow at him. “Flatterer,” she said, in Japanese. Yuuri laughed. “Go on, troublesome brother,” she added, in English. “Troublesome _brothers_.” She gestured at them again, then turned around to unpack the groceries, the tips of her ears just slightly red. 

“She doesn’t blush often, but when she does, she blushes the same way you do,” Victor observed as they lugged their suitcases upstairs, Makkachin bounding ahead of them. “That’s interesting.” 

“She _is_ my sister,” Yuuri said, trying not to blush too. He opened the door to Victor’s room automatically, then paused, glancing back at his fiancé. “Uh. Is this okay?”

Victor laughed. “Finally, you want to sleep together! My dreams have been realized!” Yuuri scowled at him, and Victor grinned. “Of course it is, my Yuuri. I’d think it would be stranger if you didn’t join me.” 

Yuuri nodded and tugged his suitcase through the doorway. He’d slept in here the entire time they’d been training for Nationals, but now that Victor was back, it felt different somehow. They hadn’t ever spent a full night together in Hasetsu, because Yuuri simply hadn’t been ready. Sharing a hotel room was one thing - a hotel room was more impersonal, without the same implications as sharing a bedroom on a more permanent basis. Even on the few nights when Yuuri had started the night in Victor’s bed, he’d always quietly moved to his own room before dawn. 

Now, though…

Yuuri flinched at the sudden brush against the back of his neck, a rather enjoyable shiver going down his spine. “Yuuri? Is my room that interesting?” Victor said, amused, trailing one hand the rest of the way down Yuuri’s back. 

“Sorry. Just thinking, I guess.” Yuuri gave Victor a small smile. “I guess we’ll be sharing from now on, huh.”

“I hope so,” Victor said, though there was a gentleness in his voice that put Yuuri at ease; Victor had seen his hesitation, and wasn’t going to misunderstand or mock him for it. “My apartment only has the one bedroom, and the one bed. Though we can always look for something else if we need more space.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” Yuuri said quickly. “I want to share your bedroom.”

“ _Our_ bedroom,” Victor corrected, drawing Yuuri over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want you to think of it as just mine any more.”

“Okay. Our bedroom,” Yuuri said, smiling at the feel of the phrase. 

“Our bedroom, our kitchen, our living room, our balcony.” Victor bounced a little, excited. “We’ll have to redecorate a bit, I think. My apartment is very _me,_ but I’d like it to be very _us.”_

Yuuri pondered this. “I, uh. I don’t know if I have any decorating preferences?”

“Oh, come now. You have a room! You have…” Victor paused. “A cactus? A lot of bare walls? Well, minimalism isn’t a bad thing. The cactus might have a hard time in Russia, though.”

“Yeah, well.” Yuuri blushed a little. “The walls weren’t always bare.” He got up, tugging Victor along with him. Better for him to show Victor now, rather than live in dread of the day Phichit inevitably mentioned the decor on Yuuri’s side of their dorm room. 

“So serious, Yuuri,” Victor teased as Yuuri opened the door to his room and gestured for Victor to go in first. “What kind of scandalous decorations have you been hiding all this time?”

“It’s not _scandalous,”_ Yuuri huffed. “Just a little embarrassing.” He pushed open the closet and reached into the back, feeling for the roll of posters that he’d shoved into the depths in a panic.

Victor actually looked confused. “Embarrassing? What? I can’t imagine…” 

“It wasn’t embarrassing until eight months ago,” Yuuri informed him, letting the posters unfurl.

Victor blinked, then took in the content of the posters. He began to laugh aloud, delighted, and Yuuri couldn’t help but grin sheepishly right back. “It’s me! Oh my. So all the blank places on the walls…?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Yuuri said, sitting down on the floor and spreading the posters out a little bit. The glossy faces staring back at him felt like old friends, he’d looked at them so often over the years.

“Oh, no. This one’s _terrible,”_ Victor lamented, plopping down next to Yuuri and tugging a poster free, one of the older ones from some long-forgotten magazine. The Victor on the poster was long-haired and ethereal, caught mid-spin such that the swirl of his ponytail covered most of his face, his sharp blue eyes just visible through the strands. “It looks like my hair is trying to attack me. And winning.” 

Yuuri bit back a laugh. “Hey, I always liked that shot. I thought it was the most graceful thing I’d ever seen,” he said, before remembering that he was talking about Victor Nikiforov _to_ Victor Nikiforov. “I, er. Um.”

Victor gave him a fond look. “Oh, Yuuri. You are so wonderfully cute when you suddenly remember who I am.” 

“It’s not like I forget, exactly,” Yuuri said, making a face at him. “I was just chasing you for a very long time. Sometimes it still feels unreal.” 

To Yuuri’s surprise, Victor didn’t pick up the comment and turn it into a joke. Instead, he hummed in the back of his throat, reaching out to shuffle through the posters around them, spreading them out a little more. “These pictures are of me, yes, but only part of me,” Victor said, after a moment. “I’ve become very good at showing people only what I want them to see. But you broke past that, my Yuuri. It’s a beautiful thing, to be seen in your entirety.”

Yuuri stared at him, then buried his face in his hands. “How can you say that kind of stuff with a straight face? You are so… so…”

“In love with you? Yes. I’m glad you noticed,” Victor said matter-of-factly, and a moment later Yuuri felt Victor’s hands on his wrists, gently tugging them away from his face. “I mean it. And I know you feel it too, even if you don’t say it in the same way. You’re most open on the ice, I think.”

“Probably,” Yuuri said, offering Victor a shy smile. He had so many thoughts, so many emotions that he couldn’t quite shape into words, but maybe he could learn to for Victor’s sake. He didn’t want Victor to have any doubts either. “I like you better in person, too. The way you are with me, I mean. Your smile is so much brighter.” He looked down at the posters again, then back at Victor, comparing. 

“I’m definitely happier,” Victor said, content, making Yuuri feel warm all the way through. Yuuri carefully pushed the posters out of the way and closed the gap between him and Victor, wrapping his arms around Victor and pulling him close. “And I love it when you do that,” Victor added, low. 

“Good, because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon,” Yuuri replied, kissing Victor firmly.

“...and that,” Victor said, once Yuuri gave him the chance. “Do that more. Always. Constantly.” 

Yuuri took a deep breath. It was very tempting to keep going, but he suspected that they wouldn’t be left to their own devices for too much longer, and the thought of being interrupted by his parents… no. Definitely not. “Later,” he said regretfully, though he followed it up with another kiss to soften the blow. 

Victor pouted. “If you insist. I’ll hold you to it, though.” He chuckled, rubbing one hand down Yuuri’s back before shifting the posters around again. “I’d forgotten about some of these. You might have a better collection than I do. Impressive.” 

“You save-” Yuuri began, then sighed. “Of course you do.”

Victor laughed. “Don’t you have at least a file of your various appearances and such? If you don’t, I can guarantee that _someone_ does. Minako, maybe. It just makes sense to keep track of things. They aren’t on my walls, though. I’m not entirely egotistical.” 

“Just mostly,” Yuuri muttered, then grinned. “Fine, fine. Do you want me to keep these?”

“Was that ever a question?” Victor looked offended. “Just because it might be a little odd for them to be plastered all over the walls doesn’t mean you have to throw them away. Honestly, Yuuri. Though if I get some posters of you to make it more even…” His expression turned speculative.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Yuuri said quickly, releasing Victor so that he could gather up the posters, tapping them into a neat stack. “I mean, I’ll have the real Victor Nikiforov to look at every day, right?”

“Oh, you’re getting good at this,” Victor said, amused. 

“You’re easy to flatter.” Yuuri nudged Victor playfully, then turned to survey the room again. “I guess I should get some of my stuff out of here. I was thinking of letting Yurio use my room this time. It’s more comfortable than that storage closet, and, um. More private. For us, I mean.” 

“Hmm.” Victor smiled slyly, and he pressed one finger against his lips. “That definitely sounds like a good idea.”

“...the walls are still thin, though,” Yuuri said quickly, and Victor laughed.

“I’m not talking about being indiscreet, Yuuri. I _am_ capable of being quiet.” Victor’s grin became even more impish, suggestive. 

“Victor...” Yuuri leaned down towards his fiancé. It still surprised him just how tempting Victor could be, and how enthusiastically his body wanted to respond to even the mildest forms of Victor’s teasing. “You are the most ridiculou-” 

“Oi, katsudon! Old man!”

The sudden shout cut any sense of romance into shreds. Yuuri bit back a laugh as Victor rolled his eyes upwards in a supplicating _why now, why this_ gesture. Makkachin barked and scrambled down the hallway.

“You’d better not be doing anyth- hey! Get off of me, you dumb dog! _Victor!”_

“Later,” Yuuri reminded Victor, grinning.

………………………

Yurio dropped his backpack on the floor of Yuuri’s room with a thump. “Geez, this is boring,” he proclaimed. “Victor’s room is a trainwreck, but at least it’s an interesting trainwreck.” 

“I missed you too, Yurio,” Victor cooed, reaching one hand out to ruffle Yurio’s hair.

Yurio dodged and glared at Victor. “At least I don’t have to sleep in your closet again.” 

“Oh, yes. Especially not with all the kissing we plan on doing,” Victor said happily, slinging one arm over Yuuri’s shoulders. “So much kissing. I love Yuuri very, _very_ much, you know.”

Yurio made a disgusted face and backed away from them, edging out into the hallway. “Ugh. Everyone knows. Just stop.” 

“Yurio didn’t appreciate my pure expression of love,” Victor sighed, following Yurio and dragging Yuuri in his wake. “He said my free skate was _cheesy._ Can you believe that?” 

“It was very... you,” Yuuri managed, trying not to laugh.

Yurio rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you two be lovey-dovey all afternoon. Where’s the fun stuff you were telling me about?” Yurio walked briskly towards the inn foyer, as if trying to put as much distance between him and Victor as possible.

“Uh… most of that isn’t until later,” Yuuri said. “A lot of it has to be prepared first-”

“Yuuri~” came a sly voice from the lounge doorway; Mari emerged a moment later, holding a mop and bucket. “Just who I was looking for,” she continued, in English. “I’ve been saving these for you!” 

“...like that,” Yuuri sighed, but he nodded at Mari. “I’ll help. Just let me figure out what Victor and Yurio can do in the meantime.” 

“Oh, we can help too,” Victor said brightly. “Actually, Yurio’s very good at cleaning.”

“Huh?! Victor-” Yurio sputtered, taking a step back as Mari’s cheerful gaze fixed on him.

“Wonderful! I was hoping you’d say that.” She turned and called down the hallway in Japanese. “They’re going to help us out!” 

A moment later Hiroko appeared with two more buckets, one stuffed to the brim with cleaning cloths and the other filled with various supplies. She put the buckets down in front of them and bobbed a bow, her expression warm and grateful. “Thank you,” she said in Japanese, beaming at Victor and Yurio. “It’s so kind of you to offer!”

Victor bowed back to her after Yuuri translated. “If I’m going to be your son, I’m going to act like it,” he said. Yurio rolled his eyes. “And Yurio’s always happy to help out,” Victor added, pointedly. 

“Oh my,” Hiroko giggled at Yuuri’s translation. “Yuuri, you should have proposed to him sooner.” Yuuri blushed, and Hiroko retrieved a cleaning cloth from the bucket, holding it out to Yurio. “Thank you very much,” she said, in English this time. 

Yurio stared at the cloth, then at Hiroko’s face. “I’m not… you’re… you’re welcome,” he mumbled. Hiroko beamed, and Yurio’s cheeks turned pink. 

Once they were alone again, Yurio gave Victor a venomous look. “I’m on _vacation.”_

“This is a historic inn, you know. Think of it as a detailed tour,” Victor said, unrepentant. 

At the very least, the cleaning wasn’t boring. Yurio had a surprisingly gentle touch with the dusting, despite Yuuri’s abject terror the moment Yurio headed for a fragile shoji screen. Victor was absolutely abysmal at cleaning, giving Yurio ample opportunity to be Better At Something Than Victor, even as Yuuri despaired for the state of their future apartment. “I pay for cleaning service every week,” Victor informed him. “It’ll be fine!”

“Spoiled brat,” Yurio muttered from across the room. “The only thing you can do is skate, isn’t it? Too bad I’m better at it than you now.”

“What’s that?” Victor said loudly, tilting his head to one side. “I can’t hear you over the sound of all my gold medals.” 

“I crushed your world record into the ground, old man-”

And Yuuri was going to be in the middle of this every single day. He’d wanted this - he’d missed it terribly, in fact, the sense of camaraderie that he’d finally allowed to grow between him and his fellow skaters, rather than relegating it to just Phichit and a chosen few Detroit rinkmates. Now that Yurio was here, exchanging insults and banter with Victor, Yuuri could imagine it that much more clearly. 

“...oi, katsudon, why are you looking at me like that?” 

Yuuri blinked, realizing he’d been giving Yurio a fond look. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he said.

Yurio stared at him before turning away to scrub at a tabletop with more force than was strictly needed. “Thanks for having me,” Yurio muttered, and Yuuri smiled. 

………………………

Their reward for a hard day’s work was homemade katsudon, which Hiroko presented to them with a warm smile. “All that work was worth it for this,” Yurio proclaimed between bites; he was using chopsticks now, though his technique left something to be desired. The katsudon was delicious as always, and for the first time Yuuri felt like he completely deserved it. 

After dinner, they soaked in the hot springs until every ache from cleaning was gone, leaving them tired and content. “I’m going to miss this,” Victor said, leaning his head back against the lip of the hot spring. “We don’t have anything this nice in St. Petersburg.” Yurio snorted, but he didn’t disagree. 

“We can visit whenever you miss it too much,” Yuuri said, yawning. “I’m sure that’ll make my parents happy.”

“Come back here twice every week. Then I’ll beat you both for sure,” Yurio said, without any real bite in the words. 

“Ah, but then you won’t be able to take any pride in your victory!” Victor chuckled and reached out to ruffle Yurio’s hair. Yurio ducked under the water to avoid him. 

They trailed back upstairs wrapped in inn robes; Yurio made a face at them before vanishing into Yuuri’s old room and slamming the door behind him. Victor just grinned and swept open the door to his room - no, _their_ room. “After you, my dear.” 

“Ugh. You two are the worst,” Yurio called out. 

“Yes, giving him his own room was definitely a good idea.” Victor slid the door closed behind them. 

Yuuri stretched, the inn robe slipping off his shoulders as he did so, and Victor made a pleased sound and hurried to press a kiss to the nape of Yuuri’s neck before Yuuri could tug the robe back up. Yuuri twitched at the touch, and Victor chuckled. “You’re too tempting, Yuuri.”

“I saw the looks you were giving me in the hot springs,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “Hoping Yurio would go to bed before we got out?” 

“I swear, he does things just to spite me,” Victor lamented, nuzzling at Yuuri’s neck. “But I was very patient… very, _very_ patient. Do I get a reward for being so good?” 

Yuuri laughed, a little breathless. “Maybe.” He took a step away from Victor and let the robe fall all the way the the floor, pooling around his feet. 

“Oh, very nice,” Victor said, looking Yuuri up and down until Yuuri blushed. “You just have to be quiet, remember?” Victor leaned closer to Yuuri again, his warm breath making Yuuri shiver in anticipation. “You’ve gotten spoiled by hotel rooms, my Yuuri - the walls are so thin here.” 

Yuuri swallowed. “I can be quiet,” he hissed back, and the smile he gave Victor had an edge of challenge to it. “I’ve lived here for years. I know exactly how loud I can be.” 

Victor’s answering grin was bright and hungry. “Well. Maybe we should test that.” 

They fell onto the bed wrapped in each other’s arms, barely leaving enough room to breathe between kisses. Victor slid his tongue deep into Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri made a pleased hum against his lips. “I’ll win,” Yuuri said into the heated space between them. “I guarantee it.” 

Victor shifted so that Yuuri rolled beneath him, pulling away to look down at Yuuri. “Well. You know how competitive I am.” Victor stroked one hand down Yuuri’s chest, lazy sweeps that occasionally detoured to roll a nipple between his warm fingers. Yuuri bit his lip and tried not to look at the fascination in Victor’s gaze, the utterly ridiculous softness that pervaded Victor’s expression whenever they made love. That look alone made Yuuri want to arch up and grind against his fiancé, but he didn’t want to do that quite yet. He wanted this to last.

Victor’s languorous explorations made Yuuri’s skin flush, tingling and sensitive. Victor dipped his head and licked at one of Yuuri’s nipples, and Yuuri silenced his answering gasp, giving Victor a smug smile as no sound at all escaped his mouth. Undeterred, Victor went for the other nipple, then pressed himself against Yuuri as he kissed his way up Yuuri’s neck, nuzzling at the soft skin under Yuuri’s ear. “God, you’re so good,” Victor murmured, rocking their hips together, and Yuuri could feel Victor’s growing erection against his own. 

“I am,” Yuuri breathed, then surged up and flipped them. Victor smothered a delighted noise at the movement, arching up to meet Yuuri as soon as his back hit the mattress. Yuuri licked at Victor’s neck, teasing, brushing his tongue against the shell of Victor’s ear before moving downward. “See?” 

Victor hummed his agreement, rolling his hips under Yuuri’s. They were both fully hard now, and every movement pressed and rubbed their cocks together. Yuuri kissed Victor again, deeply, licking barely-audible moans out of his mouth. The control needed to keep quiet was a game now, an act of will that made everything more intense. 

“I want to take you,” Victor whispered. “ _God,_ Yuuri, I want you - please, can I?” 

Yuuri shuddered. The look on Victor’s face, yearning, desperate… Yuuri rolled off of Victor, fetching up at his side. “Yes, yes, yes,” Yuuri panted.

Victor squeezed and stroked Yuuri’s ass with one hand while going for the nightstand drawer with the other, pulling out the tube of lubricant that they kept there. Victor coated his fingers, the process deliberately slow, and every time he looked over to see Yuuri giving him increasingly desperate looks he went even slower.

“Victor!” 

“So impatient, my Yuuri!”

And then Victor was sliding a finger into him, just one, and Yuuri let out a long, hissing breath. It felt good, but it also felt inadequate. Victor was still teasing him. Yuuri scooted forward abruptly, the movement unexpected, and Victor’s finger slipped free. “Enough teasing,” Yuuri said, low, sitting up and turning to face Victor.

Victor’s cheeks flushed, and he smiled, that hungry, needy smile that Yuuri felt deep in his belly. “Or else what?” he replied, his voice pitched to a playful half-growl. Yuuri kissed him, hard, pressing into his mouth, crushing their lips together. Victor made a delighted sound and let Yuuri in completely. “God, I love it when you’re forceful like this,” Victor whispered when Yuuri gave him enough space to talk. 

“Then show me,” Yuuri said, nipping at the tip of Victor’s nose before turning again, very deliberately lifting his ass in Victor’s direction. Some part of him was screaming _what are you doing_ in sheer embarrassment, but the look on Victor’s face made it absolutely worth it. 

“Very well. No more teasing,” Victor said. Yuuri gasped as Victor worked two fingers into him, sending a jolt of lightning up his spine.

“Yeah, like that,” Yuuri managed, hanging his head as Victor lavished attention on him, stroking him inside and out, slicking him up in preparation. Every press and twist of Victor’s fingers was like a promise, and Yuuri trembled as Victor continued to touch, slipping in a third finger once Yuuri was ready for it. _“Please,”_ Yuuri begged, clenching deliberately around Victor’s fingers. “Victor, please-” 

“Turn around,” Victor said, withdrawing. Yuuri obeyed immediately, shaking with need as Victor leaned back against the headboard, settling himself. Yuuri lowered his head to press a kiss to the tip of Victor’s cock before Victor rolled the condom over it, followed by more lubricant. When Victor was done, he glanced up at Yuuri, shifting and spreading his legs a bit. “Come here, my Yuuri.” 

Yuuri crawled between Victor’s legs before shifting to straddle Victor’s hips, biting back a moan as the head of Victor’s cock brushed him. Yuuri planted both hands on Victor’s shoulders, and Victor grabbed his ass as Yuuri began to lower himself down, a strangled sound escaping him as Victor filled him up at last. “Victor,” Yuuri whispered, pressing haphazard kisses to his fiancé’s cheeks, forehead, anywhere he could reach. “God, Victor-” 

“Mmm, Yuuri,” Victor groaned, a little too loudly. Victor’s eyes widened as Yuuri covered his mouth with one hand, and he kissed Yuuri’s palm before chuckling, the sound a low hum against Yuuri’s skin. 

“You’re too noisy,” Yuuri breathed, locking eyes with Victor, pressing his hand against Victor’s mouth a little more firmly. Victor shuddered and let his head fall back as Yuuri lowered himself further, until he was fully seated on Victor’s cock, both of them shaking together.

“Okay?” Yuuri asked, lifting his hand so Victor could answer unimpeded. 

“Yes, and _god,_ put that hand back,” Victor moaned, and Yuuri let out a pleased breath before pressing his palm against Victor’s mouth again. 

“You have to be quiet, Victor,” Yuuri whispered, and began to move, riding Victor’s cock with aching slowness that sent tremors through them both. Victor panted against his hand, smothering needy sounds in Yuuri’s skin. And the sight of him, cheeks flushed, eyes half-closed in bliss, a smile curving under Yuuri’s palm… 

Yuuri hissed and pushed back against the tide rising inside him, too quick. He stopped moving, and Victor whined and thrashed under him, desperate for that friction. Yuuri shushed him with a kiss to the forehead, tasting sweat and sex. He felt the answering brush of heated lips under his hand, first a kiss and then the shape of his own name. 

Yuuri lowered himself again, slow at first, then faster, deliberately tightening around Victor’s cock. A muffled cry escaped Victor, and a moment later Victor wrapped one hand around Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri smothered his answering groan against Victor’s shoulder. “Shhh,” Victor hissed, his eyes bright with amusement. 

They spent a long time like that, rocking against each each other, pushing back orgasm again and again until Victor’s clever fingers matched perfectly with a deep thrust that made Yuuri see stars. It was finally too much, and Yuuri silenced his cries against Victor’s chest, shuddering as he came. Victor groaned and thrust up into Yuuri several times before he, too, fell apart.

They collapsed against each other, heavy and sated, heartbeats slowing as they came down together. Victor whispered quiet endearments in Russian against Yuuri’s skin, and Yuuri reciprocated with breaths of Japanese. _I love you, I love you, god, I love you._

At last, Victor sat up enough to clean them both up, grabbing a handful of tissues to handle the worst of the mess. “I’m not sure who won,” he said quietly, throwing the tissues away before curling around Yuuri again, their bodies fitting together perfectly. 

“I was too distracted to judge,” Yuuri said, kissing the tip of Victor’s noise. “We might have to have a rematch another night.” 

Victor laughed aloud, then covered his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh, my insatiable Yuuri.”

“My Victor,” Yuuri said. Victor went quiet, emotion welling up in his eyes. 

“Yours, always,” Victor said, after a moment, and Yuuri sighed contentedly and pulled him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11, at last! This took longer than I'd thought, between setting up the new apartment and other RL things, but I'm very happy with how it turned out. You might also notice that there's a final chapter count now - that's right, the next chapter will be the last. However, I'm definitely planning on writing some shorter follow-up stories. :) 
> 
> Some notes here:
> 
> \- The New Year holiday is considered one of the most important in Japanese culture. The run up to New Year's Eve/Day is filled with preparations, depending on which traditions a household decides to follow. Similarly, many people travel to visit their families. Cleaning for New Years is traditional as well, for both practical reasons and some spiritual traditions. 
> 
> \- One would typically not yell _onegai shimasu_ (please!) at a train, but Victor doesn't have that much Japanese vocabulary on hand to yell in a pinch. At least it worked! 
> 
> \- Victor's speech to Yuuri's parents is deliberately a little stilted, as even with Yuuri's coaching he's not fluent. Also, he's pretty nervous! (Can we talk about how Victor is so at ease in a competition setting but so flustered here, because talking to Yuuri's parents like this is so incredibly important on a personal level? *flings self into a ditch*)
> 
> \- YoI Fic Trope #2389: The Posters. *fills in checkbox* You know Phichit will bring up the posters in the future and be a bit disappointed that Yuuri beat him to the punch. 
> 
> \- Yurio is 100% weak to Hiroko's earnest thanks. Look at this sweet boy. Just don't call him a sweet boy. He won't appreciate it. 
> 
>  
> 
> So: one chapter left! Thank you so much for reading, and for your kind comments. As always, your happiness is my fuel. <3 Thank you for reading! If you want to yell about YoI with me on tumblr, you can find me at [chisotahn.tumblr.com](http://chisotahn.tumblr.com).


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